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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921752">I wasn't trying to fall in love, (but boy you pushed me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky'>Squeaky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Soulmate Series (no one asked for) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes &amp; Sam Wilson Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, I hope?, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Some Humor, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Stupidity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:34:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James 'Bucky' Barnes' soulmarks are pretty awful. </p><p>Steve Rogers' soulmarks are probably worse. </p><p>With soulmarks this bad, you might guess their relationship would be off to a rocky start. </p><p>If you also guessed they'd have to survive: a fire, a stabbing, a concussion, public intoxication, vomiting and stitch removal before their happy ending, you'd be right.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Soulmate Series (no one asked for) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/820101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>300</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I wasn't trying to fall in love, (but boy you pushed me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/gifts">Taste_is_Sweet</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know, I know, it's another 'first words' fic, but it's what Taste_is_Sweet wanted and she deserves all the good things. I'll have a new trope up for this series before the end of the year. Promise! </p><p>This story was written with great love and appreciation for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet"> Taste_is_Sweet </a> who bought this fic back in July in the Equality Auction created by Partridgemod on Dreamwidth to support BLM. Thanks so much Tasty! </p><p>The title comes from the completely enjoyable  <a href="https://youtu.be/A3tgV5Uoduo"> I'm Yours </a> by   Alessia Cara. It's a total bop.</p><hr/>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James “Bucky” Barnes took risks. </p><p>It was his soulmarks that made him that way; prone to leap before he looked. He’d been fighting against his reckless nature for as long as he’d been alive. </p><p>He only hoped that today wasn’t the day that it killed him. </p><p>“Brinlee!” he called, ears straining for some kind of response. The hallway was grey with smoke and flickering orange light. Bucky could barely see two feet in front of him, and it was now hot enough that he’d begun to sweat despite his short sleeves. He could feel his hairline getting damp and trickles of moisture ran down the side of his face. It felt like his jeans were fusing to his skin with the heat. Still, it was better than burning to death, which is what Brinlee was going to do if he didn’t find her soon. </p><p>Bucky had just finished getting home from his shift as a nurse at <i>Maria Stark Memorial,</i> when he’d smelled the smoke. He turned to see his neighbour from a few doors down standing panicky and distraught on his front lawn as he stared at his house. The structure already had an ominous orange glow through the windows as it burned. Bucky had immediately gone over to him.</p><p>“Mister Clemens! What happened?”</p><p>Mr. Clemens looked over at Bucky, his glasses were smudged, his grey hair disheveled. He looked terrified as he stood in his bathrobe on the well-manicured lawn. “Brinlee!” He’d screamed as soon as he’d caught a glimpse of Bucky. “She’s still in there!”</p><p>“Call 911!” Bucky had smacked his phone into the man’s palm and taken off for the house even before the man had stopped speaking. He hadn’t realized that Mr. Clemens had family and he didn't know whether or not Brinlee was an adult or a child, but it was obvious that she needed help. </p><p>“Brinlee!” Bucky called again, then coughed as the smoke clogged his lungs. His eyes were streaming from the acrid air; his skin tightening from the increasing heat. He couldn’t hear anything but the <i>crack</i> and <i>pop</i> as the structure burned around him. He felt a small pang to think of the beautiful Victorian house burning to the ground, and then a worse pang that Brinlee might burn along with it. “Brinlee! <i>Brinlee!</i>”</p><p>His throat was raw from the combination of smoke, screaming for Brinlee, and coughing. Every second that passed was making it harder to see and even worse, harder to breathe. He wiped at his eyes but couldn’t clear the tears. He tried not to think of what the smoke was doing to his lung tissue, or the carcinogens were doing to his life expectancy. He coughed again, unable to clear his lungs. Spots formed in front of his eyes; the grey smoke of the hallway clouding his vision. </p><p>He found himself on his hands and knees, coughing desperately and violently enough that he ended up gagging. His lungs felt completely empty, his body like a hollow shell. He tried to regain his feet, to keep looking for Brinlee so at least she wouldn’t die alone, but it was like his limbs weren’t connected to his brain. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe running into a burning building wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but it might actually be his last. </p><p><i>I’m sorry,</i> he thought. <i>I’m sorry Brinlee,</i> and <i>I’m sorry, soulmate, for not being able to keep myself alive long enough to find you.</i> And wasn’t that ironic, considering his life-long recklessness was technically his soulmate’s fault?</p><p>The thought was complex and hard to hold on to, what with the severe oxygen deprivation, so Bucky let it go. He sagged onto his elbows, barely able to keep himself upright. The air was slightly less dense near the floor but the heat was rising. It was only a matter of time. He let his eyes slide shut.</p><p>Someone large and very strong grabbed him around the chest and pulled him upright; dragging him down the hallway in the direction he had come. Bucky tried to help, but he couldn’t get his feet under him. He was dragged like a rag doll, loose-limbed, limp and barely conscious. Until all at once the smoke disappeared and he was staring up at the purple colours of dusk in the summertime in New York and suddenly he could breathe. </p><p>His lungs flared to life, and he started coughing as his body tried to turn itself inside out to rid itself of the smoke. The bruising grip of the person holding him didn’t budge as they kept dragging him – somewhere-- Bucky was pretty sure the arms wrapped around his chest would most likely leave a mark. </p><p>Not that Bucky would mind, he thought between intense bouts of coughing, the arms were solid and obviously well-muscled. He wouldn’t mind seeing whom they belonged to. Not that he could see much of anything, that was. His eyes were still streaming from the combination of acrid smoke and harsh coughing, making everything look blurry. </p><p>The person carrying him lowered him to the ground and someone else immediately strapped an oxygen mask to his face. Bucky’d never tasted anything so good in his life as the slightly cold and plasticky-smelling air. He breathed deeply, feeling incredibly lucky to be alive. </p><p><i>Brinlee!</i> he thought and tried to sit up. The person who’d dumped him on the ground pushed him back down, and then left his hand on Bucky’s chest, easily preventing him from moving. <i>Brinlee’s still in there!</i> Bucky tried to explain, but he ended up coughing instead. </p><p>“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” The firefighter who was pinning him down shouted at him. He still had his SCBA gear on, and the combination of the large facepiece and the tears in Bucky’s eyes meant that the firefighter’s face seemed to consist entirely of blue eyes that were very, very angry. </p><p><i>Those are my words,</i> Bucky’s heart constricted in his chest. He’d been waiting his <i>whole life</i> to hear the words that would help make sense of his entire existence, and here they were, said by a large man with incredibly blue eyes, who was still staring at him with such blatant rage that it was visible even through the plastic shield of his SCBA. </p><p>“Sorry,” Bucky said, only it didn’t come out like that. Instead his voice squeaked and cracked and he ended up coughing so hard that the EMT who’d put the oxygen on him sat him up and held him upright while he tried to rid himself of what felt like gallons of smoke. </p><p>When he looked up again, the firefighter was gone.</p>
<hr/><p>“So you nearly died for a <i>dog?</i>”</p><p>“I didn’t know that then, did I?” Bucky snapped. Sam was still laughing. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners with his mirth. “Glad you find it funny.” </p><p>“It’s better than crying over your death. For a dog that was in the back yard the whole time. I can’t believe how lucky you are.” Sam Wilson was a physician’s assistant in the ED and probably Bucky’s best friend. Although it didn’t really feel like it at the moment, since all Sam had done since he’d come to his hospital room was either berate him or laugh. </p><p>“I guess.” Bucky shifted his head against his pillow. It was the day after he’d nearly died in the fire. He’d been moved from the ED up to one of the floors pretty quickly, but not before everyone he'd ever worked with in the ED had come through to alternately praise his bravery or chastise him for being so stupid. At least the doctors were happy with his progress and pretty sure that there’d be no permanent damage to his lungs from all the smoke he’d breathed in. Despite the heat he’d experienced he hadn’t even gotten burned. He was expecting to be discharged later that day.</p><p>Sam looked at him. “You don’t sound like you feel lucky.” </p><p>Bucky shrugged, an awkward gesture considering he was sitting against a ton of pillows. “I just think it could have gone better, is all. Like, if there really was someone called Brinlee in the house.”</p><p>“Why? You’ve suddenly become a firefighter?” </p><p>“Lay off,” Bucky said tiredly. “I’ll do better next time, okay?”</p><p>“You have to,” Sam said. “This is what? The third time you’ve been in hospital for dumb shit since I first met you. I really hate seeing you in here. You really need to stop leaping before you look.” </p><p>“I’ll try,” Bucky said immediately, then grimaced at Sam’s expression. “I’ll try really hard?”  </p><p>“I think we all want you to do better than try.”</p><p>“You know I don’t do this on purpose.”  </p><p>“I know,” Sam sighed. “And I also know that your soulmarks make it difficult for you not to be a death-defying idiot. But seriously. What the fuck did you think you were doing?”</p><p>A pair of angry blue eyes immediately appeared in Bucky’s mind as Sam echoed the words on Bucky’s hip. He cleared his throat. “I think I met my soulmate.” </p><p>A slow smile spread across Sam’s face. “Wait. Someone said your words?”</p><p>Bucky nodded. He remembered the look of undisguised rage on the firefighter’s face, and his cheeks flamed. </p><p>“Who? When? Where? Was it at the fire? I bet it was at the fire!” Sam exclaimed. “Oh my God! Someone finally said your words! You can stop being such an idiot!” </p><p>Bucky smirked, but then his face fell. “There’s just one problem.” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“I have no idea who he is.”</p>
<hr/><p>Phil Coulson raised one eyebrow as he looked at the form that he’d been handed. “What’s this?”</p><p>“A formal complaint sir,” Steve Rogers said stiffly. He stood with his arms folded behind his back in a military ‘at ease’ position; chin tilted up. </p><p>Coulson noticed. “Stand easy, Steve. We’re not in the military.” </p><p>Steve dropped his stance and crossed his arms. It’d been three years since he’d quit the military and joined the FDNY, but old habits died hard. Especially when he was riled up. Which he was. “I’m complaining about the actions of an employee of <i>Maria Stark Memorial,</i>” Steve explained when his Captain had perused the form. He could feel his temper spike as he thought about what the civilian had done. “His actions were reckless and downright dangerous. He should be told—”</p><p>“He ran into a burning building, hm?” Coulson said, eyes still on the paper. “Whatever for?”</p><p>“Apparently he thought someone was still inside the house. The home owner told us that he’d run inside as soon as he’d heard the name ‘Brinlee.’” At Coulson’s look, Steve continued. “Brinlee is the home owner’s dog, sir.” </p><p>“So, this man heard the owner screaming for someone named ‘Brinlee,’ and then he went running off into the building to find her?”</p><p>“Yessir. Apparently, he’s the home owner’s neighbour. It was lucky for him that the owner mentioned he’d gone after the dog. Otherwise I would never have gone inside to look.” </p><p>“For Brinlee?”</p><p>“For the neighbour. Brinlee was safe in the back yard.” </p><p>“That’s good,” Coulson murmured. “Glad the dog’s alright.” </p><p>“Dog’s fine, sir,” Steve said, and then: “it’s the neighbour who’s the problem.”</p><p>“The one with the dog?”</p><p>“No sir,” Steve did not grind his teeth. “the one who ran into the burning house after the dog. The one who works at the hospital. If I hadn’t gone in after him, he would be dead for sure.” </p><p>“I’m sure he would be,” Coulson said, without any of the anger that Steve was feeling. “What’s his name?”</p><p>Steve thought back to the fire. He remembered the weight of the man in his arms; how solid he’d felt and how strong. He remembered his eyes, dark grey like an ocean storm; the even planes of his face, his sharp cheekbones and the clef in his chin. He remembered how sensual his mouth was and how beautiful his face. He remembered the charge of fear he felt, thinking that if he’d been just a few minutes slower that the civilian would’ve died and he would’ve been pulling a burned corpse out of the fire instead.</p><p>He did not remember if he’d even asked for the man’s name. “He ended up in hospital.” Steve said instead. “Maria Stark. Where he works.”</p><p>Coulson’s eyes snapped to his, sharp with concern. “Is he all right?”</p><p>Steve blinked, a kernel of dread popping in his stomach. “I, uh, didn’t check.”</p><p>“But you took the time to write this complaint.” Coulson dropped it on his desk, mouth creased.</p><p>“Because he nearly died!” Steve protested; dread immediately replaced by anger. “He ran into a burning building after an animal that wasn’t even inside! And I don’t want him to do it again!”  </p><p>“I don’t think he knew Brinlee was a dog. Or outside,” Coulson said.</p><p>“That’s not the point! He nearly <i>died</i> by running into that fire! What if he does it again? Next time he might not be so lucky!” </p><p>“Maybe he was so badly hurt in the fire that he won’t be able to do anything again,” Coulson said mildly. “Problem solved.” </p><p>“That’s not the way I wanted the problem—” Steve took a breath and then another to get his emotions under control. “The paramedics who were treating him didn’t seem to think he was that badly hurt.”</p><p>“Who were they?”</p><p>“Barton and Romanova.” </p><p>“Ah yes,” Coulson said, “good paramedics. Smart. When did they become doctors?”</p><p>Steve’s face heated. “They’re not doctors.” </p><p>“So, they may not have known how badly hurt he was,” Coulson said. It wasn’t a question. “But lucky for him, you’re planning on putting in a complaint so he knows to never, ever try to save someone’s life in a burning house again…if he lives.”</p><p>Steve’s face was hot. He shifted back to a more military stance, feeling like a raw recruit getting dressed down by his sergeant. “Civilians shouldn’t be running into burning houses,” he tried one last time. “He shouldn’t have run into an active house fire! He could get—”</p><p>“Hurt?” Coulson finished for him. “I think he might have figured that out by now. Don’t you?”</p><p>Steve swallowed, gut churning. “Yessir.” </p><p>“I think we’ll save the administration of Maria Stark some work tracking down their employee who’s in their hospital for trying to save someone’s life,” Coulson said conversationally. “But thanks for bringing this to my attention.” He dropped Steve’s form onto his desk.</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Steve said tightly. He left Coulson’s office, upset and confused. He had only wanted to stop the man from repeating such a dangerous action, but now his Captain thought he was unfeeling and officious; choosing to put in a complaint against someone who’d been hurt just trying to do the right thing. How’d it gone so horribly wrong? </p><p>But he knew what had gone wrong. It was him. He rubbed the sleeve covering his left forearm with his right hand, thinking of the words written there in casual yet strong script. <i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i></p><p>He was wrong right down to his core. And he always would be, until he found his soulmate.</p><p>But why would anyone want someone as wrong as him?</p>
<hr/><p>“What you’d do to make Coulson so mad?” Clint Barton asked as he came into the locker room. He opened his locker and started stripping off his station gear, head turned towards Steve who was sitting on one of the smooth wooden benches, tying his sneakers. There was a small rectangular bandage across Clint’s nose.</p><p>“What happened?” Steve gestured at his face.</p><p>“I accidentally pulled the door of the truck open into my face.” </p><p>Steve winced. “Ouch.” </p><p>“It’s okay. Natasha bandaged it for me.” Clint grinned. </p><p>“No wonder you’re happy.” </p><p>“I may have to hurt myself again tomorrow,” Clint’s smile broadened, then he frowned. “So, what you’d do to Coulson?”</p><p>“I put in a complaint against an employee of Maria Stark,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think Coulson liked that very much.” </p><p>“Coulson hates complaints against our partner organizations.” Clint nodded. “Blue is blue.” </p><p>“Blue is blue,” Steve echoed. “But this guy was being a complete dumbass! He nearly got himself killed!” </p><p>“You mean the one at the fire a couple days ago? Didn’t he go to hospital?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Steve felt the same stirring of shame he’d felt in Coulson’s office, but he tamped it down. “And it’s terrible that he got hurt, but he would’ve been fine if he’d just used common sense and stayed put. Everyone knowns they shouldn’t go into live fires!” </p><p>“Didn’t he go in to save a dog or something?” Clint pulled his undershirt over his head then winced as it brushed by his nose. “Ow.” </p><p>“Careful with that,” Steve said unnecessarily. </p><p>“Natasha thinks it’s broken,” Clint said, delighted. “She even assessed it and everything. With her fingers!” </p><p>“That’s great. But I thought you two were soulmates?”</p><p>“We are. Natasha calls this the ‘getting to know each other phase.’” He made air quotes. “Where we talk and date and stuff. She doesn’t want to rush into anything.”</p><p>“But you’re soulmates,” Steve said again. He finished tying his shoes and stood up, leaning against his locker. “Doesn’t that mean you’re, you know, meant to be together?”</p><p>Clint shrugged. “Natasha thinks that being soulmates is ‘the beginning, not the end’ of the relationship.” He made air quotes again. Clearly, he’d taken Natasha’s words to heart. “She said that saying someone’s words didn’t really let you know if you were compatible, and only time could tell you that.”</p><p>Steve rubbed at the words on his forearm. He’d often wondered about the temperament of someone who’d say those words to him; who would’ve marked him with such a harsh condemnation before they’d even met. But it had never occurred to him that they might not be compatible. “But soulmates are chosen for us by the Universe. Doesn’t Natasha believe in fate?”</p><p>Clint shrugged. “She’s Russian.” </p><p>Steve started packing up his duty bag, thinking about what Clint had said. Was it possible that he and his soulmate weren’t compatible? It certainly would explain the tone of the words on his forearm. The idea made Steve shudder, but he couldn’t tell if it was with remorse or relief at the idea.</p><p>His thoughts immediately drifted to the man he’d rescued from the fire and a pair of dark grey eyes and high cheekbones. <i>Stop it!</i> he scolded himself. He immediately shook his head at the thought. It didn’t matter how pretty he was. He was a reckless idiot who nearly got himself killed trying to be a hero. His neighbour said that he didn’t even pause to think, just ran straight into the fire. He was probably stupid and reckless all the time; constantly putting himself and therefore others in danger so he could get a medal pinned on his chest. Steve’s anger flared. </p><p>“What’s his name?” He spat at Clint. </p><p>Clint looked up from his phone. “Who?”</p><p>“The guy we had to rescue from the fire. You treated him. What’s his name?”</p><p>“Something Barnes? Or maybe it was Bourne,” Clint said. “Jason or Jamie or something. He’s a nurse in the ED. I’ve seen him around but I can’t remember his name. Why?”</p><p>“Because I don’t need a formal complaint to tell him what an idiot he is,” Steve said. He grabbed his bag.</p><p>“It’s pub night,” Clint said. “Where are you going?”</p><p>Steve’s eyes narrowed. “To give Jason Bourne a piece of my mind.”</p>
<hr/><p>The doctors had discharged Bucky from the hospital later that afternoon, but he wasn’t cleared to return to work for almost a whole week. He had strict orders to stay home for his last two shifts of the set and not return until after his four days off. He had no idea what to do with himself.</p><p>“You should rest,” Sam said when Bucky told him about his lack of plans. “Let those lungs heal.” But he came into the second-floor walk-up with Bucky and kicked off his shoes by the door. He then proceeded to grab two beers out of the fridge and make himself comfortable on the couch, take-out pizza brochure in hand. </p><p>“How can I rest when you’re here?” Bucky complained. He raised his eyebrows at the offered beverage.</p><p>“It’s not contraindicated with your meds. I checked.” Bucky took the beer. “Hawai’ian or Canadian?” Sam asked, eyeing the pamphlets. </p><p>“Italian,” Bucky said. “With olives. No mushrooms or fruit.” </p><p>“Fine,” Sam huffed. “But I’m getting spinach with the olives.” </p><p>“Together?” </p><p>“Seriously? You’re complaining about spinach? How do you not have scurvy?”</p><p>“Olives are a vegetable,” Bucky said primly. “And it’s made with tomato sauce.” </p><p>“Tomatoes are a fruit, and so are olives,” Sam said. “And yet you won’t eat pineapple on your pizza. You are brutally inconsistent.” </p><p>“And yet, you love me for it.” </p><p>“And yet, I do,” Sam agreed with a sigh. He typed in their order on the app on his phone. “Should be here in about forty.” </p><p>“Let me pay you back. You drove me home. You don’t need to pay for pizza, too.” </p><p>“Consider it my way of showing my appreciation that you’re not dead.” Sam raised his beer bottle in salute. “Plus, I’m drinking your beer.” </p><p>Bucky laughed, which irritated his lungs and he ended up coughing. Sam patted his back until Bucky’s chest had settled. He wiped a tear from his eyes before turning to look at his friend. “Why aren’t we soulmates?”</p><p>“Because I didn’t have the foresight to ask you what the fuck you thought you were doing when we first met?” Sam grinned. </p><p>“Probably would’ve made sense if you had. I was so new I really didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.” Bucky grinned back, but his heart felt heavy. He’d actually met his soulmate. Only the firefighter had been angry and completely different from the warm, easy affection that Sam exuded like light. He’d always thought his soulmate would be more like Sam, not a man with blue eyes that were as hard and cold as polished stones.   </p><p>“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Sam said quietly. </p><p>Bucky nodded. “It’s just strange, you know? We’re told that meeting our soulmate is like this magical moment, and we wait for it our whole lives for it to happen, and then when it does…” He shook his head.</p><p>“Doesn’t quite live up to the hype, does it?”</p><p>“Nope.” Bucky took another swig of his beer. </p><p>Sam was still looking at him. “Do you want to find him?”</p><p>“How am I going to do that?” Bucky laughed. “I mean, all I know about the guy is that he’s a firefighter in New York City. Do you know how many firefighters there must be in New York?”</p><p>“Over ten-thousand,” Sam said. He grimaced. “I get your point.” </p><p>“Yeah. And it’s not like I’m going to go knock on the door of all the fire halls within a six-minute drive of my house and ask them: ‘hey, you got any firefighters here with angry blue eyes?’” Bucky’s mouth curved downward. “He doesn’t even know he’s my soulmate.” </p><p>Sam had heard the story while Bucky was in hospital, but he patted Bucky’s back sympathetically regardless. “Shit man, that sucks.”</p><p>“Don’t I know it.” </p><p>“No,” Sam said after several minutes of silence, “no. I don’t buy it. The Universe doesn’t just mark you with words like yours and then let the guy walk away! There’s no way that’s the end of the story.” </p><p>“What do you want me to do?” Bucky asked sardonically, “run into another burning building? Sam, come on!” Bucky exclaimed when Sam’s only answer had been a raised eyebrow. “That’s crazy!”</p><p>“Is it?”</p><p>Bucky smacked him on the shoulder, hard enough to hurt. </p><p>“Ow!” Sam rubbed his shoulder, laughing. “Okay, okay, new plan.” </p><p>“There is no plan,” Bucky said. “I just need to face it, Sam. I’m never going to see him again.” </p><p>“We’ll figure something out. You’ll see him again,” Sam said with authority.  </p><p>“Sure,” Bucky agreed. But he knew he didn’t believe it.</p>
<hr/><p>“Say his name again?” The elderly woman said behind the desk at the ‘information’ booth in the main lobby of <i>Maria Stark Memorial.</i> She had grey hair styled with neat finger waves and a pink cardigan over a wide-collared brown dress and skirt. Her name tag read ‘Beverly” in white script. </p><p>“Jason Bourne,” Steve repeated, only slower than he had the previous two times. “He’s a patient here? Brought in yesterday suffering from smoke inhalation?”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Beverly. “I do hope he’s all right.” </p><p>“That’s what I’m trying to find out, ma’am.” He hoped the curve of his mouth looked more like a smile than a grimace. He’d been standing at the desk for over five minutes while a line started to grow behind him. Beverly seemed nice, but she was either hard of hearing or she couldn’t spell, because she’d already searched for Jason Bourne without success. If she didn’t find him right goddamn now, Steve was going to vault over the partition and look him up himself. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said after another agonizing minute. “There are no Jason Bournes admitted. Are you sure you have the right hospital, dear?” </p><p>Steve opened his mouth to answer that yes, he did have the right hospital, when he realized why she might be having problems. “Um, try Barnes,” Steve said, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Clint in the locker room. “Jason Barnes.” </p><p>“Barnes?” Beverly repeated. “That’s a fair bit different than Bourne. How did you get them mixed up?” </p><p>“They both start with ‘B’ and have the same number of letters…” Steve started with more than just a hint of sarcasm. Then he stopped when he realized she wasn’t really asking him a question. </p><p>“Privacy legislation doesn’t allow us to confirm whether or not people are in the hospital unless you’re a close personal friend,” Beverly said. Her kind eyes were now glaring. “Are you a close personal friend of Mr. Barnes? Because the fact you didn’t know his name might indicate otherwise.” </p><p>She had a point, actually. “I’m the firefighter who rescued him,” he said with way less sarcasm than before. He threw his shoulders back a little so she could see the ‘FDNY’ logo emblazoned on his chest. </p><p>She was decidedly unimpressed. “I’m sorry dear, but hospital policy won’t permit me to share any patient information with anyone who’s not a close friend or family. Now if you’ll excuse me—”</p><p>“He’s my soulmate!” Steve blurted. His face flamed. He could hear the interested rustle in the line-up behind him. A doctor who was walking by stopped and turned to look at him, her dark eyes keen with interest. Even Beverly’s harsh gaze had softened. </p><p>“Your soulmate?” she breathed; hands clutched to her chest. “Oh, how romantic!” </p><p>“He said my words when I pulled him out of the fire. But then the paramedics took him to hospital, so I didn’t really get his name?” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping she wouldn’t see through his blatant lie. He wasn’t a liar; he had no idea why he’d told her they were soulmates. He had no clue what he was doing. <i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i> “I’m just trying to track him down.” </p><p>“Of course you are!” Beverly was still cooing at him. “He’s your soulmate! Oh, I do hope he’s okay. What did you say his name was? Jason Barnes?” </p><p>“Try Jamie,” Steve said. </p><p>She typed something into her computer and frowned. “Do you think he might go by James instead?”</p><p>“Wait, are you looking for James Barnes?” The doctor had come over to where Steve was standing. She was wearing a white lab coat with an ID tag clipped to the pocket that said ‘Shuri,’ and identified her as a physician. Despite the intricate and artistic braids that adorned her head, she was still short enough that she barely came up to the top of Steve’s shoulder. </p><p>“Um, yes?” Steve said. </p><p>“He works in the ED with me!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the information desk to a more private area. “You’re James’ soulmate? Really?” She was obviously delighted by this information if her wide smile and the way she clapped her hands was anything to go by. Her joy was infectious, and Steve found himself smiling back. </p><p>Until he realized that she only thought he was James’ soulmate because she’d overheard his lie.</p><p>He didn’t want to lie to this woman. Not if she was actually James’ friend. All he wanted to do was to ensure that James got the message to never, <i>ever</i> do anything as stupid as run into a burning building again. Once that was done, he’d be happy to forget that he’d ever dragged James out of the fire. </p><p>Although, if he was being really honest with himself, it was going to be pretty hard to forget a man that good-looking. Or that brave. </p><p><i>Stupid!</i> He reminded himself harshly. <i>Not brave. Stupid!</i> The entire reason he was looking for James was to keep him from being that stupid again. He really needed to keep focussed. </p><p>Shuri was looking at him expectantly, waiting him to confirm that he and James were soulmates. </p><p>He licked his lips, unsure what to do. An image of James’ face, only burned and bloody because Steve hadn’t been there in time flashed before his eyes and his decision was made. “Yes,” he said, voice creaking only a little. “Yes, I am.”</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky’s apartment was swarmed that night. </p><p>Sam was still there. Pizza and beers had morphed into take-out Chinese and binge-watching <i>Queer Eye</i> on Netflix. Bucky thought it was a sweet show, but every episode made Sam cry. </p><p>“We can watch something else,” Bucky offered. “I’ve heard <i>Six Underground</i> is pretty good. Really violent. No tears there.” </p><p>“I like to cry,” Sam had said. “Puts me in touch with my emotions.” So Bucky had shrugged and started season number four. </p><p>That was when the door buzzer rang. Sam got up without being asked and went downstairs. A few moments later he returned. “You’ve got visitors!” </p><p>Bucky’s head snapped up. For a painful moment he had the crazy hope that it’d be the blue-eyed firefighter, only to have it dashed a second later when Shuri, Wanda and Kamala tumbled into the apartment. </p><p>“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!” The three women cried as they all ran over to him. He immediately found himself surrounded by young females; Shuri on his right, Kamala on his left and Wanda perched on the couch’s armrest. There was no more room for Sam.</p><p>“How are my favourite medical residents?” Bucky grinned at them. “Doctor Khan, Doctor Maximoff, your Highness?”</p><p>Shuri laughed. “I should never have told you my brother is the king of Wakanda.” </p><p>“You never told me,” Kamala said. She adjusted her headscarf. “I had to look it up on Google.” </p><p>“We are not here to talk about your brother!” Wanda admonished Shuri. “We have exciting news!”  </p><p>“Oh yeah?” Bucky glanced at Sam.</p><p>“Don’t look at me,” Sam said. “I have no idea what the doc-lings want to talk about.” Wanda scowled at the nickname but Shuri laughed. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” Kamala asked. “Any chest pain? Shortness of breath? Coughing up ashes?”</p><p>“Only when he laughs,” Sam said seriously. “And then it’s all pink frothy sputum.” </p><p>“That’s not funny!” Kamala swatted at Sam who moved out of the way. “People die when they have that.” </p><p>“I’m fine, I swear.” Bucky leaned his shoulder into hers. “Just like when you saw me in the hospital.” </p><p>“But it was Doctor Strange who discharged you,” Wanda sniffed. Everyone knew how Wanda and Dr. Strange didn’t really get along. “We wanted to see for ourselves that you were okay.”  </p><p>“And we have news!” Shuri squealed. </p><p>“Yes!” Kamala nodded enthusiastically, “Shuri met your soulmate!” </p><p>For a moment it felt like Bucky’s lungs really were damaged and he couldn’t breathe. “<i>You met my soulmate?</i>”</p><p>“He came into the hospital today looking for you!” Shuri exclaimed happily.</p><p>“He did?” Bucky looked at Sam, seeing his confusion mirrored in Sam’s eyes. </p><p>“He’s a firefighter!” Shuri continued. “He’s tall. Really tall. I barely came up to his shoulder. And he’s blond with blue eyes and very handsome. For a white boy.” </p><p>“He’s blond? And handsome?” Bucky repeated. He tried to come up with an image based on Shuri’s description but couldn’t. All he could think of were angry blue eyes.</p><p>“He’s your soulmate. Haven’t you seen him?” Wanda frowned.</p><p>“Only his eyes,” Bucky admitted. Then told them the story. </p><p>“You never spoke to him?” Shuri said, puzzled. “But then how does he know you’re soulmates?”</p><p>“You must have said something to him,” Kamala said. “It doesn’t make sense, otherwise.” </p><p>“Unless he’s lying,” Wanda said. </p><p>“Why would he lie about being Bucky’s soulmate?” Sam asked her. “Especially since he is?”</p><p>“But, if Bucky didn’t speak to him, then he doesn’t know that he’s Bucky’s soulmate,” Wanda said. “So, in his mind, he’s lying.” </p><p>“Sokovia must be a really dark place,” Kamala said with awe. </p><p>“My question still stands,” Sam said. “Why would he lie?”</p><p>“Why would he want to find Bucky?” Wanda countered. “It’s not like you’re rich.” </p><p>“Thanks for that.” Bucky scowled at her. </p><p>“But he must know you’re soulmates!” Kamala insisted. “He probably saw your words and knew he’d said them to you. For sure the paramedics must have cut off your shirt.” </p><p>“I know I would’ve,” Wanda muttered. </p><p>“My words are on my right hip,” Bucky said.</p><p>“How naked did they get you?” Sam asked. </p><p>“They didn’t,” Bucky said. “Well, nothing below my waist.” </p><p>“Then he guessed! Your reaction to him saying your words gave it away!” </p><p>Bucky evaluated Kamala’s explanation. “Maybe,” he said after a moment. “But I honestly don’t remember how I reacted. I was too busy trying not to die.” The three women all gave similar cries of distress at that statement, and Bucky found himself having to comfort them again. While he was patting Shuri’s back he realized he’d missed the most important part. “What’s his name?”</p><p>Shuri’s eyes met his. “Steve.” </p><p>“Steve?” Bucky felt the name on his tongue. He thought of a tall, handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes. Steve felt right for a man like that. He smiled.</p><p>“Steve what?” Sam asked.  </p><p>“What, what?” Shuri blinked at him.</p><p>“His last name!” Wanda said, exasperated. “How is Bucky meant to find him just by ‘Steve?’”</p><p>Bucky hadn’t thought of that. He’d never be able to find one firefighter in over 10,000 with just a first name. “You did get his last name, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I forgot? Oh, come on, guys!” she exclaimed. “You know we don’t use last names in Wakanda! It doesn’t feel natural for me to ask for them.” </p><p>“We understand,” Kamala said sympathetically. “Besides, you got his phone number for Bucky, right?”</p><p>“I didn’t get his number.” There was a chorus of groans from everyone. “But he said he’d come back to see you next time you’re working,” she continued desperately. “Don’t worry, he’ll come.”  </p><p>“Or, Bucky will never see him again and it will be your fault,” Wanda said darkly.</p><p>Bucky shot Wanda a look. “It’s okay,” he said to Shuri, “He’s come to the hospital once. I’m sure he’ll come by again. he’s my soulmate.” <i>My soulmate,</i> he thought. He didn’t know how Steve knew, but he did. And he wanted to find Bucky.</p><p>Bucky couldn’t stop smiling.</p>
<hr/><p>Steve felt like a complete idiot. </p><p>He’d left the hospital and gone straight home to his small apartment in Brooklyn, feeling embarrassed and ashamed and like everyone around him was looking right at him and knew what he’d done. </p><p>As soon as he got into his apartment, he’d dropped his duty bag and went to the kitchen. He downed two glasses of water in a row and then gripped the edge of the sink, trying to get his heart to stop pounding. </p><p>He’d told James’ friend that they were soulmates when he knew that wasn’t true. James hadn’t said anything to him when he’d dragged him out of the fire. He’d barely had the air to breathe, let alone spit out the harsh words on Steve’s forearm. He’d told Shuri that he and James were bound by destiny in order to get her to tell him when James would next be at work. He’d manipulated her to get what he wanted. He’d lied.</p><p>The admission made him feel ill; like something was churning in his stomach. He wished he could call her and take it all back. He wished he’d never gone to the hospital at all.</p><p><i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i> Steve closed his eyes as he thought of the words tattooed on his forearm by fate. He’d spent his whole life trying to be different, to be <i>better</i> than the man who would deserve those words, but he still couldn’t manage it. </p><p>His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he’d had with Clint that afternoon, where Clint had told him that Natasha didn’t believe that just being someone’s soulmate meant you should be together. Maybe Natasha was right. What soulmate could ever say those words and still be the one to love him?</p><p>Appetite gone, he headed to bed. His phone was full of texts from Clint and Natasha asking him to join them for pub night, but he shut off his phone and left it on the counter. It was early, much earlier than he’d normally be heading to bed, especially when he was starting his two days off, but he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts for a moment longer. </p><p>No matter how noble his intentions, he’d blown it as soon as he’d lied to Shuri. Steve knew there was no way he could confront James now. He’d have to hope that Coulson was right and James would’ve learned enough from this near miss to keep himself safe in the future. </p><p>He fell asleep thinking about James, and how he would feel when Shuri told him that his soulmate had stopped by the hospital, when they weren’t soulmates at all.</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky slumped in the office chair situated by the nursing station. It’d been a surprisingly quiet day shift considering it was near the end of the week. It was also Bucky’s last day of his first set back after he’d spent six days off healing from inhaling all the smoke from the fire.</p><p>He’d spent the first few hours of his first shift nearly giddy with excitement, head craned towards the entrance as he waited for Steve, the tall, blond, handsome firefighter to appear. But his excitement decreased as the days progressed, until it was evening on his last day, nearly the end of his shift and he had to accept the fact that his soulmate wasn’t going to come.  </p><p>Shuri slid into the seat beside him and took his hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll come!” She’d been repeating the same words every day of his set of four, but this late in the day even her optimism was more forced than natural. </p><p>“He’s not coming.” Bucky said unhappily. </p><p>“Maybe he’s been working. Maybe his shift’s the same as yours and he’s been at work this entire time.” She sat up straighter as she spoke, like her words were lifting her spirits along with Bucky’s.  “We should look it up!” </p><p>“Firefighters work nine to six. We work seven to seven. He could’ve come.” He shrugged. “I looked up the FDNY’s shift schedules already.”</p><p>Shuri took a breath as if she was going to say something else, but then her shoulder’s sagged. “He said he would come back.” </p><p>“It’s not your fault.” Bucky patted her shoulder. “Somethings aren’t meant to be, I guess.” </p><p>“But you’re soulmates!” </p><p>“He doesn’t know that. Wanda was right.” Bucky’s mouth twisted. “He lied.”</p><p>“Why would he lie?” Shuri asked just as Sam joined them at the desk. His sad expression mirrored theirs. </p><p>“He hasn’t shown up yet, huh?”</p><p>Bucky and Shuri both shook their heads.</p><p>“Well, damn,” Sam said. “I was rooting for this guy.” </p><p>“Me, too.” Bucky forced himself to smile.</p><p>Sam made a sympathetic face, but before he could respond there was a commotion by the ambulance bay doors. A woman came though, her long red hair in a tangled mess nearly to her waist. She was terribly pale, which made the deep rings under her eyes seem like a purple mask. She seemed to have nothing on besides an oversized hoodie that came down to her thighs and a pair of plastic flip flops. Her expression was a disturbing combination of completely terrified, highly aggressive and utterly vacant. But what really held Bucky’s attention was the small, deadly knife she held in her right hand.</p><p>“Oh shit,” Sam breathed. </p><p>Bucky stood up; hands held passively at chest height as he stepped out from the shelter of the nurses’ station. “Get her and the others out of here,” he directed Sam with a nod of his head towards Shuri. “And call security, stat.” </p><p>Sam had stood and was holding Shuri by her shoulders, preventing her from running towards the woman herself. “Bucky,” he said warningly. “Do not get involved with this! We pay people for that.” </p><p>Bucky shook his head. “I need to help her. Before she does anything drastic.” </p><p>“You’re looking before you leap!” Sam shouted at him, but Bucky was already moving towards her, each step slow and deliberate so she wouldn’t think he was a threat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam move Shuri and himself out of danger, and he almost sagged with relief. </p><p>The woman screamed. She was still threatening people with her knife; violent but uncoordinated thrusting motions that had people scrambling for the exits. Bucky saw Wanda and Kamala by the doors to the main lobby and was grateful to see Wanda hustling Kamala out of the emerg. Wanda had spent several years as a child in a refugee camp in Latveria and knew when to pick her battles. </p><p>The ED had mostly cleared out, but Bucky knew that there were still patients who were too sick or injured to escape. He also knew that he had colleagues who were still with them; ready to give their lives in defense of their patients. Bucky gritted his teeth. That wasn’t going to happen on his watch. Not if he could help it.</p><p>He moved closer; hands still high. This close, he could see her weapon was a small, curved-bladed paring knife, less than 2 inches long and wickedly sharp. The blade might’ve been short, but Bucky was well aware of the damage that even a small blade could do. “Hey,” he called to the woman, you seem really upset. Can you put the knife down and we can talk about it?”   </p><p>Her eyes snapped to his. Her pupils were blown wide, visible from where Bucky was standing. </p><p>“What are you?” she asked him. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Are you a ghost?”</p><p><i>Psychotic break,</i> Bucky immediately thought. “No, I’m very much alive. And I’d really like to stay that way. Can you put the knife down?”</p><p>“Ghosts always say they’re alive,” the woman said. Her hand moved restlessly over the knife’s handle as if she was considering using it.</p><p>“I get that,” Bucky said, even though he really didn’t. “But you’re in the emergency department of Maria Stark hospital. There are no ghosts here.”</p><p>“Hospitals are full of ghosts!” She moved towards his left, head shaking like she was trying to clear it. “And you’re a ghost too!” </p><p>“I’m not. I’m not, I promise.” Bucky put one of his hands on his chest. “I’m a nurse here. My name’s James.” </p><p>“That’s a dead man’s name,” she spat.</p><p>“That’s true. It was my grandfather’s name. But I’m alive. I’m a nurse and I’m alive, and I’d like to help you. What’s your name?”</p><p>“Jean,” she said. “Jean, Jean, Jean, Jean!” She put her hands over her ears. The knife brushing against her face. </p><p>“Jean, hey Jean!” Bucky said, “It’s really nice to meet you.” Her eyes met his again; wild and bloodshot.</p><p>“It’s not nice to meet me. No one’s nice to meet me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, knife still gripped tight in her hand. “shut up!” She screamed at something only she could see.</p><p>“Jean,” Bucky said, putting the urgency he was feeling into his tone. “I want to help you. I really want to help you through this, but you need to put down the knife.”</p><p>“I just want the voices to be quiet,” she sobbed. </p><p>“I know, I know you do.” Bucky moved a step closer to her, gaze focussed on the knife in her hand. “But I really need you to put the knife down.”</p><p>“Why?” she screamed at him. “Why do you care?”</p><p>“Because you’re upset and I want to help,” Bucky said, “because we can help you; get you medicine and someone to talk to that will help quiet the voices down. I want you to let us help you.” </p><p>“I don’t know if I can,” she said with heartbreaking honesty. Her grip had loosened on the knife and Bucky took a step closer. He saw two security guards standing by the wall, unsure if they should approach and he waved them off with one hand. He was getting through to her. The last thing he needed was someone rushing at her and making everything worse.</p><p>“You can. I’ll help you. We’ll get through this together.” Bucky took another step closer, then another, until he was close enough to touch her. “Jean,” he said, putting out his hand, palm up. “Please give me the knife.” </p><p>She looked down at the knife, still pointed straight at Bucky. “You’ll help me?” She looked at him, eyes sad and hopeful all at once. </p><p>“I promise,” Bucky said, which was exactly when a large blond man came tearing out of nowhere and tackled Jean to the ground.</p>
<hr/><p>It was the nightmare that changed Steve’s mind. </p><p>He hadn’t had nightmares since he was a child. Neither his tours of duty nor the bad fires he’d attended had made him lose much sleep, but apparently lying to James’ friends about being his soulmate was enough to turn his psyche against him. </p><p>He woke up in a panicked sweat; heart pounding and his head full of images of James surrounded by blue-orange flames, screaming as the fire consumed him. Steve, on the outside of the fire without his turnout gear, could only watch; helpless to do anything. </p><p>Steve sat up, heart racing and breath hitching in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, desperate to hear James’ voice, to know he was okay. It took him a full minute of going through his contacts to remember that he didn’t actually have James’ number, because they weren’t soulmates. He’d never even heard James’ voice. </p><p>Steve sagged against his pillows, feeling like his chest was going to explode. He was having nightmares about a man he’d never truly met, but was clearly terrified would die. </p><p>“I have to see him,” Steve whispered into the pale dawn light. He had to tell him; to <i>warn</i> him not to do anything as stupidly heroic again. Because Steve knew he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. He didn’t even know why.</p><p>His alarm buzzed into the quiet of the early morning, reminding Steve that he had to get up to start his day. He had things to do before his 9 a.m. shift parade. He licked his lips, wondering if he should go to Maria Stark before work, but then decided against it. James started work at 7 a.m., and Steve didn’t want to get in the way. He’d go right after his shift ended, which would be just before the end of James’ shift. It would be a better time for them to talk. Maybe Steve could even ask him out for coffee. </p><p>Steve shook his head to dispel the thought. He was going to see James to remind him not to be dumb, not ask him out on a date! They weren’t even soulmates, after all. <i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i> Steve sighed. Why was his soulmark always so fucking fitting?</p>
<hr/><p>The security guards pounced on Jean the second that the large blond man rolled off of her, which was good, because the knife was still clutched in her hand. Only now the short blade was covered in blood. </p><p>The blond man was lying on his back, hands pressed to his left side. The front of his navy t-shirt was turning black under his hands. Dark red blood welled up between his fingers. His blue eyes were wide with shock and pain.</p><p><i>Left lower quadrant injury,</i> Bucky catalogued immediately. The blade was short and curved, so even though the man had landed on it with all his weight, it was unlikely that it had gone deep enough to nick his spleen. However injury to the diaphragm and small intestine was still possible. He was also bleeding a lot, which was never good. </p><p>“I need help here!” Bucky called out to no one in particular. He knew the ED had pretty much emptied out when Jean came in with her knife, but he also knew his colleagues weren’t that far away. Hopefully at least one of them had seen what occurred and was gathering the necessary medical equipment right that second.</p><p>Bucky dropped to his knees, moved the man’s hands and pressed onto the wound, hard. The man squeezed his eyes shut and groaned in pain. The sound pissed Bucky off. He’d had everything under control, and this guy just decided to run in and play hero, nearly getting himself killed in the process. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Bucky yelled at him.</p><p>The guy’s eyes flew open; their gazes met. </p><p>Bucky felt his heart stutter in his chest. He recognized those eyes. He <i>knew</i> this man. It was the firefighter who’d rescued him; the one who’d said his words. Steve. His soulmate. It was like his brain just shut off; every part of him closed up and powered down. It was his <i>soulmate</i> who’d just gotten stabbed in front of him. It was his blood welling up and spilling over Bucky’s fingers. He was still looking at Bucky, his huge blue eyes clouded with pain. </p><p>Bucky’s mouth opened and closed ineffectively. He wanted to say something, <i>anything</i> to Steve. Something kind and comforting to ease his pain. But at that second the area was filled with his colleagues and there were too many people and too much noise, and the chance was lost. </p><p>“I got this,” Sam said, replacing Bucky’s hands with his own. The blue of Sam’s nitrile gloves immediately turned dark purple with Steve’s blood. “Go get yourself cleaned up.” </p><p>Bucky moved off of Steve, feeling his warm blood cooling on his hands. He’d forgotten he didn’t have gloves on. <i>He’s my soulmate,</i> Bucky wanted to say, but the trauma team had already moved Steve onto a stretcher and into a curtained off area of the ED. They’d left a thick smear of Steve’s blood on the floor. He couldn’t look away.</p><p>Kamala came up beside him, gently grasping his elbow. “Bucky?”</p><p>Bucky turned away from the gore and looked at her. Her bronze-coloured eyes were expressive with her concern. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“That was my soulmate,” Bucky said. It still felt like he was entirely shut down; his mind unable to process what had just happened. It felt like he wasn’t even breathing.</p><p>“Oh shit,” Kamala breathed. But then she smiled, wide and completely fake. “He’s going to be fine.” </p><p>Bucky thought about the way the knife looked in Jean’s hand; how the small blade was completely red with Steve’s blood. How it had covered the edge of Jean’s hand. He wondered how deep it had pierced into Steve’s body; which organs it might have penetrated; what damage it might have done when it came out. His vision greyed.</p><p>“Bucky?” Kamala said. Her voice sounded like she was standing in a deep cavern. </p><p>“I’m fine,” Bucky murmured, and then everything went black.</p>
<hr/><p>Getting stabbed was really painful.</p><p>Steve was doing his best to keep his screams behind his teeth, but his jaw was aching with the effort. </p><p>Apparently, repairing a stab wound involved a lot of different people sticking their fingers <i>into the damn wound</i> with very little anesthetic. He knew it was because they needed to figure out how bad it was. That was also the reason why his shirt had been cut off and his pants removed with no warning. They’d left his underwear and thrown a sheet over his legs. Both of which were now stained with his blood.  </p><p>They’d run something that Steve assumed was an ultrasound over his abdomen, and then there was a discussion around the side of his bed while a young female doctor with long brown hair tied up in a bun had an argument with an older, male doctor with grey at his temples and extremely well-kept facial hair. It seemed that the young doctor wanted to send Steve for more tests, while the old doctor wanted to stitch him up and send him home. Steve would’ve been happy with either one, if it involved more pain medication and less poking around. </p><p>After way too long a time, they apparently came to some sort of compromise where the wound was going to be stitched up and Steve was going to stay overnight. Steve’s whole body tightened at the idea that they were going to stick needles into his injury without anything for the pain. </p><p>“It’s okay, I got you,” the man standing beside his bed murmured. He had short, dark hair and a goatee and a gap between his front teeth that showed when he smiled. As Steve watched, he cleaned off the port of the IV stuck in the inside of his right elbow and injected a clear liquid. Almost immediately, Steve felt a strange tingling dance across his skin that seemed to erase any pain from his wound as it progressed. He sighed in relief, his whole body now relaxing with the sudden absence of pain. “Feel better?” The man smiled kindly at him as Steve nodded. </p><p>There was the strange sensation of his abdomen getting jabbed with needles and then injected with a cold fluid around his wound. “That’s lidocaine,” the kind man explained. “It’ll help.” </p><p>“Thanks.” Steve grinned up at him. He was feeling relaxed and kind of floaty, and the pain from the needles in his stomach didn’t seem that important. The fact he’d been stabbed no longer seemed that important. Everything was good. </p><p>Except one thing. </p><p>Something. </p><p>No, some<i>one</i>. </p><p>He’d come to the hospital for a reason. He’d come for James. <i>James!</i> Who was about to get stabbed by that red-haired woman until Steve had stopped it. He’d kept James safe. Only James wasn’t there. </p><p>The calm, floaty feeling that he’d been enjoying dissipated like fog in bright sun, replaced by a stab of fear even worse than being stabbed for real. Something had happened to James. He sat up. </p><p>“Get him settled, please!” The older doctor said. </p><p>“You need to lie down,” the kind man said through gritted teeth as he leaned on Steve’s shoulders. “Damn, you’re strong.” </p><p>“Let me up!” Steve said desperately, “I need to find my soulmate!” </p><p>“I can<i>not</i> finish these sutures with him flailing around!” The doctor shouted at the assembled group. “Get him settled!”</p><p>“Fifty micrograms of fentanyl,” the doctor with the bun said, and then injected more clear fluid into his port. </p><p>It felt like being hit by a big, pleasant, truck. Steve ended up flat on the bed, feeling like his arms and legs weren’t really connected to his body. “I need to find my soulmate,” he slurred. It was nearly impossible to move his tongue. </p><p>“We’ll help you find them,” the kind man said with a gentle pat to Steve’s arm. “Now let the doctor do his work.” </p><p><i>James,</i> Steve tried to say, but it was like he was already asleep. His eyes slid shut. Everything went dark.</p>
<hr/><p>“You’re going home,” Sam said, arms crossed. </p><p>“I’m fine!” Bucky insisted. </p><p>“You fainted!” Kamala pressed the plastic bag of ice against the back of his head. She could only reach because he was sitting in a chair. “You landed on the floor!”  </p><p>“I blacked out,” Bucky corrected her. “And besides, I didn’t land <i>hard.</i>”</p><p>“That is an absolute lie,” Shuri said. “You bounced off the floor so hard they heard it outside.” </p><p>They were in the ED’s staff room, where Kamala had half-dragged/half-carried him after he’d fainted from seeing his soulmate get stabbed right in front of him. Shuri had arrived with a bag of ice moments later, and apparently they’d called in Sam as well. They’d been keeping him there, bent over with ice on his head for at least twenty minutes. Sam had been surprised, but not shocked, when he learned that the big, blond stab victim was actually Bucky’s soulmate. </p><p> It was now well past 7 p.m. and the end of Bucky’s shift, but he knew he couldn’t leave. Not before he found out if Steve was okay. That stupid fucking idiot. </p><p>“I didn’t bounce!” Bucky protested. </p><p>Sam frowned at him. “Kamala said you bounced.” </p><p>“I did.” Kamala nodded vigorously. “You bounced like an egg.” </p><p>“Eggs don’t bounce,” Bucky muttered. </p><p>“Yeah, they crack.” Sam’s expression hadn’t changed. “Like the back of your head after it hit the floor. It’s after your shift, anyway. You should go home.” </p><p>“Not until I see him.” No one needed to ask who ‘he’ was. Bucky sat up and tossed the bag of ice onto the table. It slid a few inches, leaving a wet smear. <i>Like Steve’s blood smeared on the floor.</i> He swallowed down the sudden rush of bile. </p><p>Sam must have seen something in Bucky’s expression, because he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He’s okay,” he said softly. “Your boy’s just fine.”</p><p>Bucky shook his head. “You don’t know that. You don’t know—” He stopped; chest tight.   </p><p>“He’s a firefighter. A little stab wound isn’t going to kill him.” </p><p>Bucky looked at Kamala. “Little stab wounds kill people all the time.” </p><p>“He’s fine!” Shuri said before Bucky and Kamala could start arguing over whether or not small blades could kill big firefighters. “Wanda and Doctor Strange were both taking care of him. He’s getting the best care possible.” </p><p>“Except that Stephen and Wanda hate each other. One of them might kill him just to spite the other one.”  He was trying to make a joke, only his pounding heart was betraying his fear. He’d seen Jean’s knife. The blade was indeed small, but it was curved, which meant it could have done a lot more damage coming out than going in. And Steve had landed on the knife, burying it to the hilt with his own weight. He’d probably caused himself a worse injury than if he’d just let Jean stab him. </p><p>He wouldn’t have been injured at all if he’d just left her alone.</p><p>“Wanda would never let Doctor Strange kill him out of spite,” Shuri said. </p><p>“Shuri’s right,” Sam said. “And I was there when they patched him up. The wound was bloody but it wasn’t deep. He’s fine.” </p><p>“You don’t <i>know</i> that!” Bucky repeated. “Unless they did a FAST test and a CT—”</p><p>“They did!” Sam cut him off. “He got everything the doctors needed to know that he’s okay! He’s okay, Bucky. I promise.”</p><p>He was okay. Steve was okay. Sam wouldn’t lie. Bucky ran his hands through his hair, then over his face, until he was just resting his head in his hands. His heart was still knocking against his ribs; his blood roaring through his veins. Steve could’ve <i>died</i> because he’d rushed at Jean, when anyone could’ve seen that Bucky had everything under control. The thought was terrifying. He felt sick. </p><p>“I need to see him,” Bucky said. The desire was like something crawling under his skin. He stood up. </p><p>“You have blood on your shirt.” </p><p>Bucky looked down at Shuri’s words. Steve’s blood had stained the hem of his scrub shirt where Bucky had brushed his hands after trying to stop his bleeding. “Oh.” </p><p>“You should go home,” Kamala said. </p><p>Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but Sam beat him to it. “He needs to do this, Kamala. Let the man go.” </p><p>“Thank you. Where is he?” Bucky was half-way out the door. </p><p>“Resus three,” Sam called after him as Bucky broke into a run.</p>
<hr/><p>Steve’s side hurt. </p><p>It wasn’t too bad. The drug they’d given him for pain had worn off enough that he was able to stay awake, but not so much that the pain was intolerable. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to ask for more pain medication, or if one of the nurses would just come and give it to him. He eyed the call bell that someone had thoughtfully attached to the bedrail, but didn’t press it. He knew the ED was busy and he didn’t want to call them if they were going to come on their own. </p><p>Besides, the pain wasn’t too bad. Not if he didn’t breathe too deeply. </p><p>The curtain around his bed moved and a man slid through. He was wearing a pair of pink scrubs with a blood stain on the bottom of his shirt. His short brown hair was dishevelled and his blue eyes had a wild look to them, like something bad had happened. He also looked strangely familiar. Steve was just about to ask if the man was his nurse when he suddenly realized where he recognized him from. </p><p>It was <i>James.</i> The man he’d rescued from the fire. The one who’d been just about to get <i>stabbed</i> before Steve had intervened. The same man who’d managed to almost die—twice!—while Steve had been forced to watch. </p><p>Coulson had thought that James would’ve learned to be more careful after hurting his lungs in the fire, but clearly that didn’t happen. He was still as reckless; as <i>stupid</i> as he’d ever been. Steve struggled to a sitting position, anger doing more to dull his pain than any medicine ever could.</p><p>“Hey,” James said, his forehead creased with concern. “How are you—”  </p><p>Steve immediately cut him off. “What the <i>fuck</i> did you think you were doing?” </p><p>James’ expressive eyes widened and then narrowed. “I could ask you the same thing.” </p><p>Steve’s mind was filled with an image of James on the floor, neck slashed; blood surging through his fingers as his beautiful eyes clouded over. It made him furious. “She had a knife pointed at you! And instead of running you went closer! You’re damn lucky she didn’t stab you before I got there!” </p><p>“I had the situation completely under control!” James said forcefully. “She was just about to hand me the knife when you barrelled in like some goddamn hero and landed on it!”</p><p>“You were going to get stabbed!” Steve repeated. Didn’t this idiot know how close he’d been to death? “You could’ve been killed!”</p><p>“You nearly did get killed!” Bucky yelled back. “You nearly <i>died</i> because you were too stupid to keep back from danger! <i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i>”</p><p>Both of Steve’s arms had been above the hospital blanket, and now he immediately covered his soulmarks with his other hand. He was suddenly struck with the memory of hearing James say his words before, when he’d been lying on the floor in shock and in pain. He’d been too focussed on how much he was bleeding to really pay attention, but now he felt nauseous hearing those words said out loud. He’d been trying to <i>save</i> James; to protect him. He’d even gotten hurt in the process. He’d tried to do the right thing by helping, but he was still wrong. It was like the Universe was using his soulmate to let everyone know exactly how wrong he’d always been. He was never going to be good enough.</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Steve said stiffly. “Except having you as a soulmate.” </p><p>For a moment, James’ expression shifted from anger to deep hurt and Steve felt remorse so thick it nearly stole his breath. But then James’ features shuttered. Even the warm blue of his eyes turned icy and impenetrable. “Feeling’s mutual, pal,” Bucky sneered. He left.</p><p>It was over. Years of waiting and wondering about his soulmate had suddenly come to an abrupt, crashing end. Steve’s mind felt as if it was full of cotton; as if the pain medication was still taking effect. He had no idea what he should do next.</p><p><i>Natasha was right,</i> he thought with dawning horror. He and his soulmate clearly weren’t compatible. There was something wrong with him. He was destined to be alone.</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky left the emergency department, grabbed his bag from the locker room and went straight home. That time of night the C train from Manhattan took just under 40 minutes and Bucky spent the whole time trying not to think about Steve. </p><p>He was still trying not to think about his soulmate when he arrived back at his apartment in Brooklyn Heights. He looked over at his neighbour’s place, wincing at the burnt-out husk of the house and the makeshift fencing put up by the insurance company. The air was still tinged with smoke, even after all these weeks. The smell of smoke reminded him that he was in the fire, which reminded him of being puled out by his soulmate, which didn’t help his attempts to not think about his soulmate. </p><p>Who’d told him the only thing wrong with him was having Bucky for a soulmate. </p><p>This not thinking about his soulmate wasn’t really working. </p><p>Bucky gritted his teeth and turned to unlock his front door. Which was when two cars pulled up into the driveway. One he recognized as Sam’s lightning blue Mustang, and the other was his own grey Honda Civic that he’d bought second-hand in 2017. For a second, he was totally confused as to why his own car would be pulling into his driveway, until Wanda stepped out. </p><p>“Hey,” Sam said. </p><p>“You forgot your car in the parking garage,” Wanda said. “Sam and I thought you might need it.” </p><p>Bucky blinked. “What?”</p><p>“You took the subway home and left your car in the garage,” Sam said slowly. “Remember?”</p><p>Bucky shook his head. He barely remembered anything after his brutal conversation with Steve. “I left my car?”</p><p>“Right beside Sam’s.” Wanda wrinkled her nose. “Hondas are the easiest car in the world to break into, by the way. Everyone in Sokovia could do it. You are lucky that Sam was going to give me a ride home anyway, so I could bring your car to you.”</p><p>“Thank you. I probably would’ve completely flipped out tomorrow morning when I went to drive to work and it wasn’t there.” Bucky’s laugh was totally fake.</p><p>Sam looked at him. “Today was the last day of your set. You’re not working for the next four days.”</p><p>“Oh, right.” Bucky tried to laugh again. It didn’t change Sam’s expression at all.</p><p>“You went home in your scrubs.” Wanda was now sharing Sam’s concerned expression. </p><p>Bucky looked down and realized he was still wearing his pink scrubs from work. The top was still stained with Steve’s blood. No wonder he’d had a seat on the subway even though it was still rush hour. He touched the dried blood and then desperately tried not to think about his soulmate. Again. He looked back at Sam and Wanda. “Um.” </p><p>Sam sighed. “I’m guessing your conversation with your soulmate didn’t go well.” </p><p>“What makes you say that?” Bucky said, as if it wasn’t totally obvious</p><p>“We may have figured out something was wrong when we saw that you’d left your car,” Wanda said dryly. “Luckily, we are your good friends, and we are prepared.” She grabbed a paper bag off of the passenger seat and held it up for him to see. “Russian vodka.”</p><p>“When did you have time to get that?” Bucky asked as she and Sam moved him inside and up the stairs to his apartment. </p><p>“I keep vodka in the freezer at work,” Wanda said. “In case of emergencies.” </p><p>“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Sam shook his head. “And I’m just going to order us dinner.” </p><p>They went into Bucky’s apartment, and within moments he found himself on the couch with a two-finger glass of vodka sweating in his hand. He was very, very glad for his friends. “You really don’t have to do this.”  </p><p>“Of course not,” Wanda said as she settled herself down on the couch beside him. Her glass of vodka was even more full. “Don’t be stupid.” </p><p><i>What the fuck did you think you were doing?</i> Bucky immediately thought of his soulmarks. His soulmate had yelled them at him <i>twice</i>. Each time when Bucky had been trying to save someone else’s life. Like his intent hadn’t mattered. “I think my soulmate thinks I’m stupid.” </p><p>Both Wanda and Sam turned to look at him. Sam put down the brochures for takeout onto the coffee table. “Wait,” he said. “What?”</p><p>“I think that’s why he doesn’t want to be with me.” Bucky’s stomach rolled with the idea that his soulmate wouldn’t want him. The man he’d spent his whole life waiting for had rejected him within moments of their meeting. <i>Nothing’s wrong with me except having you as a soulmate.</i> “I don’t think he wants us to be together.” </p><p>“He doesn’t want to be with you?” Wanda was aghast. “What’s wrong with him?”</p><p>“Yeah, you really need to explain that,” Sam agreed. </p><p>So, Bucky did. Starting with his and Steve’s first meeting at the fire and then their last encounter in the hospital. Wanda was the first to break the silence after he’d finished. “I think you both have the worst soulmarks I’ve ever seen.” </p><p>“They’re not that bad.” Wanda just looked at him. “They’re kind of bad?”</p><p>“They’re the worst!” Wanda exclaimed. “A generic soulmark would be better than the swear words and insults you two have given each other! I can’t imagine growing up with marks like that.” </p><p>“It wasn’t so bad,” Bucky wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend Steve’s words. “I took a lot of risks growing up, because of my soulmarks. It was fun.” </p><p>“Not for your mother, I bet,” Sam muttered under his breath. </p><p>“Maybe for you,” Wanda sniffed. “But not for Steve. He spent his whole life with his soulmate thinking there’s something wrong with him!” </p><p>“That’s not true!” Bucky protested hotly. “There’s nothing wrong with Steve!” </p><p>“Of course not,” Sam agreed easily. “But that’s not what your words to him say.” </p><p>“I didn’t know I was going to say that.” Bucky’s eyes were focussed on the dried blood on his shirt. “I was scared.” </p><p>“I get that.” Sam leaned over and put the warm weight of his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Seeing your soulmate hurt like that would be pretty scary.”</p><p>“It’d be fucking terrifying,” Wanda agreed. “But what you said when you were scared has been on him his whole life. That’s got to mess with your mind.” </p><p>Bucky winced. “HIs words really aren’t that great, are they?”</p><p>“They’re horrible!” Wanda said with a grimace. “No wonder he threw them in your face!”</p><p>Bucky looked up. “Wait. You think he didn’t mean them?”</p><p>“There’s no way he meant them,” Sam said confidently. “It sounds like, as scared as you were to see him get stabbed, he saw a lady point a knife at you and he was scared, too.”</p><p>“We first met because he’d had to pull me out of a fire,” Bucky said. He was beginning to see Sam’s point. </p><p>“And you wonder why he’s upset with you?” Wanda rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I think you might owe him an apology,” Sam said. “Don’t get me wrong. He needs to apologize to you, too. But he did nearly witness you die a couple of times. That’s got to have been hard on the boy.” </p><p>“I didn’t nearly die—"</p><p>“He pulled you out of a fire! And then he saw you threatened with a knife!” Wanda said in a tone that brooked no argument.  “Plus, you fainted. Shuri told me.” </p><p>“Okay, I get it,” Bucky said. “I did some stuff that scared him, and I probably should apologize.” He licked his lips. “Do you think it will help?” He really wanted to ask if they thought it would mean Steve would want to be his soulmate, but he didn’t dare voice that fear. </p><p>“I think it will be fine.” Sam’s expression was knowing as he held Bucky’s gaze.</p><p>“Okay,” Bucky said after a moment. “Apologize. I can do that. I’ll go into the hospital tomorrow and find him before he’s discharged. And then—”</p><p>“Doctor Strange discharged him home right after you left.” </p><p>Bucky turned to gape at Wanda. “The fuck?”</p><p>She shrugged. “He is a terrible doctor.” </p><p>Bucky thought of the 10,000 firefighters in New York City, and how he still didn’t know Steve’s last name. “But how am I going to find him?”</p><p>“Because he is scheduled to see Doctor Maximoff to get his stiches removed in ten days,” Wanda said with a triumphant grin. “And I’m sure that I’ll need Nurse Barnes to help me.” </p><p>“Oh my God, you are the best!” Bucky pulled her into a hug. </p><p>“Of course.” She smoothed her hair as soon as he’d released her. “Now drink your vodka. It doesn’t taste good unless it’s cold.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was his first shift back after getting stabbed in the side. </p><p>The wound hadn’t been that deep in the end. The red-headed woman’s small blade had only cut into oblique muscle and had missed everything important. It had been more bloody and painful than actually dangerous. He’d been told that the outer set of stitches could be removed after only about ten days and the inner ones would just dissolve with time. He’d only needed to take one set off and spend the next one on administrative duties before he’d be seeing Dr. Maximoff again, and most likely she’d clear him to return to the truck as soon as his stitches were removed. He’d gotten off really lightly, considering he’d been stabbed. The wound was barely going to leave a scar. </p><p>But James hadn’t tried to contact him at all. </p><p>He tried to tell himself it made sense. He and James hadn’t exchanged contact information, and he knew that it was considered highly unethical for health care providers to access patient charts if they weren’t the ones actually providing care. Since James had never been his nurse, there would be no reason for him to look through Steve’s paperwork to find his cell number. But the fact he hadn’t was still upsetting. </p><p>But then again, Steve had pretty much guaranteed that James wouldn’t want him. <i>Nothing’s wrong with me except having you as a soulmate.</i> It still made Steve wince every time he’d thought of what he’d said. It was no wonder that James hadn’t even attempted to contact him. Steve had all but told him not too.  </p><p>Of course, his soulmate wouldn’t want him after what he’d said. The realization was crushing as it was true. He’d fucked up and ruined his relationship with James even before it’d begun. The thought hurt more than being stabbed ever could. It sapped his strength and stole his energy. It made even the simple task of putting on his station gear for his administrative shift more than he could handle.</p><p>“Hey,” Natasha said as she came into the locker room. “You okay?”</p><p>Steve raised his head from where he’d buried it in his hands. “What are you doing in here?”</p><p>“Getting some snacks,” she said, opening Clint’s locker with a deft twist of her thumb on his combination lock. </p><p>“This is the men’s locker room.” </p><p>“Gender’s just a social construct,” Natasha sat down beside him, an opened package of Swedish Berries in her hand. Steve took a few. They were cloyingly sweet and did nothing to stop the twisting in his stomach.</p><p>“So, what are you doing in here?” Natasha popped a berry into her mouth, one copper-red eyebrow raised in his direction. “The boys are making chili.” </p><p>“Not hungry.” </p><p>“Is your side still hurting?” Her second eyebrow raised to join the first. “You never say no to food.” </p><p>“It’s just about all healed. I just don’t feel like eating.” </p><p>“Ah,” Natasha said. She ate another berry and offered him the package. He shook his head and she shrugged and took it back, munching quietly. </p><p>Natasha was wearing an FDNY t-shirt that showed her position as a paramedic and her tac pants. Her curly red hair was pulled up into a loose bun off her neck. The edges of the blocky letters making up her soulmark were just visible at her nape.  </p><p>“Why aren’t you happy to be Clint’s soulmate?” Steve asked suddenly. He hadn’t realized he was going to ask. </p><p>Natasha looked at him. “I am happy. What makes you think I’m not?”</p><p>“Because you’re not with him,” Steve said. “You don’t…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. </p><p>“Want to be his girlfriend?” </p><p>Steve’s face flamed. “Yes?”</p><p>“I do want that,” she said. “Did he say I didn’t?”</p><p>“No,” Steve said truthfully. “I just thought—”</p><p>“That I should jump into his arms and we’d ride off into the sunset? Just because Clint’s my soulmate doesn’t mean that’s our probable fate.” </p><p>“But isn’t that what soulmarks are for? I mean, if we’re not fated to be together, what’s even the point?” He rubbed his forearm through his sleeve, thinking of James and how badly he must have messed up. <i>What the fuck’s wrong with you?</i></p><p>“The point is that soulmarks mean we’re more compatible than most,” Natasha said. “But whether or not we’re actually meant to be together? That’s not something the Universe gets to decide for me. I get to decide that for myself.”</p><p>“But what if you’re not? What if Clint’s not the one, even though he has your words?”</p><p>“Then we break up, and I cry. A lot,” Natasha said with a sad smile. “But ultimately I’d be happier knowing that we weren’t together merely because of the words on our skin.”</p><p>“But you want to try?” </p><p>“Wouldn’t you?” Natasha turned to look at him. </p><p>“I would…I do. But.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think my soulmate wants me. Not anymore.”</p><p>Natasha’s green eyes blinked. “What?”</p><p>“I fucked up,” he sighed. And then he told her everything. </p><p>“Wow,” Natasha said after he’d finished. “You really did fuck up. How the hell are you going to fix that?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Steve said helplessly. “I don’t even know if I can.” </p><p>“Well you certainly won’t if you don’t try,” Natasha said with authority. “Have you tried. Oh, I don’t know, apologizing?”</p><p>“No.” Steve shook his head. “I was too busy bleeding.” </p><p>Natasha shot him a look. “You’re not bleeding now.”  </p><p>Steve winced. “You’re right. I should apologize. I probably should’ve done it already.” </p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>“Do you think it will work? I’ll just apologize and we’ll be together?” His heart was pounding, but he didn’t know if it was from hope or fear. </p><p>“You forgot the part where he forgives you.” </p><p>“What if he doesn’t?” Steve’s voice fell. “What if he doesn’t want to be my soulmate?”</p><p>“Then you thank your lucky stars that you found out what an unforgiving asshole he is early on,” Natasha said. “But he’ll forgive you.” </p><p>“How do you know that?”</p><p>“Because he’s your soulmate.” She smiled. </p><p>“I’m going back to the Maria Stark emerg in about a week to get my stitches out. James might be there.” Steve said. “Do you think I should talk to him then?”</p><p>“Sure.” Natasha nudged his shoulder. “Bring him flowers. Guys love that shit.” </p><p>Steve laughed. He thought of James’ bright blue eyes. He’d never seen his soulmate smile. He’d like to change that. </p><p>And Natasha wasn’t wrong. He really did owe James an apology. “Flowers. I can do that.”</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky was tired. </p><p>The last six days had been spent in a crazy mixture of depression, anxiety, trepidation and hope. Depression because of how it had ended with his soulmate, and anxiety, trepidation and hope because he didn’t know how it would go when he saw Steve again. </p><p>When he returned for his next set, it felt like he was shaking apart from the inside. Even though he knew what time Steve was coming for his appointment, Bucky couldn’t help but look every time the doors to the emergency opened; couldn’t help the way his lungs froze every time he saw a tall, blond man walk by; couldn’t help the disappointment every time the man wasn’t Steve. He couldn’t shake the fear that his soulmate really didn’t want to see him again and that when he finally arrived for his appointment, all he’d see would be cold rejection in Steve’s ice blue eyes. </p><p>“You’re not subtle at all,” Shuri said to him thirty minutes before Steve was scheduled to arrive. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Bucky said as he shook the glucometer he’d gotten to test his patient’s blood sugar. It wouldn’t turn on. He tapped the side of it forcefully against his hand.</p><p>“Your desperate hope that Steve will come back to the ED.” Shuri took the device from him and held down the ‘on’ button until it beeped and the screen flashed. She handed it back. </p><p>Bucky took the glucometer from her with a muttered “Thanks,” and then: “He’s meant to come back. To see Wanda.” </p><p>Shuri snorted. “You’re moody. You’re unfocussed. You’re terribly distracted…”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky glared at her. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, okay?”</p><p>“Dreaming about your soulmate?” Shuri blinked her brown eyes at him. </p><p>“It’s not about him!” Bucky lied. “It’s not!” he repeated in response to her disbelieving look. </p><p>“Why won’t you just admit it?” Shuri said. “There’s no shame in wanting to see your soulmate again.”</p><p>“And what if he doesn’t want to see <i>me</i>, huh?” Bucky tried to smile as he said it, to pretend that it didn’t matter, but it hurt even saying the words out loud.</p><p>“He doesn’t want to see you again?” She asked, incredulous. “That doesn’t—” </p><p>“He’s here,” Wanda said to James as she strode over to them. “Get a suture removal kit and meet me in treatment room seven. Toni is covering your patients.” So saying, she turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come</p><p>“Shit.” Bucky looked at Shuri, eyes wide. </p><p>Shuri frowned at him. “Go!” </p><p>Bucky went. He walked swiftly to the supply room to grab the suture kit and a bottle of normal saline. He also grabbed an absorbent blue underpad, and then took a moment to get a grip on himself. <i>I’ve dealt with worse things than being rejected by my soulmate,</i> Bucky remined himself. He couldn’t think of anything except nearly dying in the fire. Except his soulmate had rescued him, then rejected him. </p><p>The train of thought wasn’t helping.</p><p>He took a breath, squared his shoulders and left the safety of the supply room to head to treatment room number seven. Where his soulmate was waiting.</p><p>Bucky just hoped that his soulmate was actually waiting for him.</p>
<hr/><p>Steve lay on the examination table in the treatment room feeling cold and uncomfortable. </p><p>The formidable doctor with the eastern European accent had made him take off everything but his socks and underwear and put on a hospital gown, even though his injury could be easily accessed by lifting up the hem of his shirt and pushing the waist of his pants a bit further down his hips. She’d taken less than a minute to inspect the wound. </p><p>“Hm,” she said, sounding terribly unimpressed. “Unfortunately, the doctor who put these stitches in is not very skilled and you will scar. I will get your nurse to take them out.” She was gone before Steve could even process what she’d said. </p><p>He’d been alone in the room for over ten minutes, feeling all the heat slowly seep out of his body through his bare legs. Even though it was still the height of summer outside, the room was highly temperature controlled, and it kind of felt like Steve was lying in a freezer. He eyed his pants, where he’d put them with his FDNY t-shirt over the back of one of the chairs. So close and yet so far. </p><p>The soulmarks emblazoned on his left forearm were completely uncovered by the short sleeves of the gown and painfully visible. He kept his arm tucked tight to his side, feeling vulnerable with them so exposed. </p><p>He was debating just pulling his jeans back on when the door opened again. Steve’s eyes widened. </p><p>“Hey,” James Barnes, his <i>soulmate</i> said as he entered. He was wearing a pair of black scrubs that made his eyes look as grey as a stormy sky. He held up what looked like a white plastic food container, a water bottle with a thick cap, and a folded blue plastic towel. “I’m. Uh. Here to take out your stitches.” He then pulled over the bedside table and proceeded to set out the items. He pulled the plastic cover off the container, which didn’t contain food, but a pair of shiny silver tweezers and a short-nosed pair of scissors. He opened the water bottle and poured some into one of the sections of the container. He didn’t make eye contact with Steve the entire time.</p><p>Steve had no idea what to do. He’d meant to bring flowers like Natasha had suggested, but then he’d changed his mind. He hadn’t wanted to show up to James’ workplace with flowers if James hadn’t been there, or worse, hadn’t wanted to see him. But he also hadn’t made any plans about what to do if James was there. He wasn’t sure if he should start the conversation with an apology or not. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Steve said finally, more desperate to talk to his soulmate than out of actual curiosity.   </p><p>James glanced at him curiously before turned back to his ministrations. “I’m wetting some gauze with normal saline,” he explained. “I’ll use it to wipe down your wound first before taking the stitches out.” He picked up a square of wet fabric with the tweezers and deftly used an empty part of the container to wring it out. He brought it over to Steve. “Can you lift your gown for me?”</p><p>James’ tone was neutral when he asked Steve to expose his abdomen, and he was in a <i>hospital,</i> which was about the least sexy place on the planet, but Steve couldn’t help his blush as he lifted the gown up to his ribs. He wished that he could make a joke about James wanting to see him naked. He wished he knew if James actually wanted to see him naked. He wished he hadn’t fucked up so badly the last time they’d met. </p><p>“Thanks,” James said softly, still not meeting his eyes. He bent over Steve’s abdomen.</p><p>The gauze, wet and cold, touched Steve’s sensitive skin. He recoiled violently; pulling his knees up in an instinctive move to protect his exposed midsection. His knee collided solidly with the side of James’ head, and the nurse went flying. He hit the bedside table and both went tumbling to the floor, crashing down at the same time as the equipment he had set out so carefully moments before. </p><p>“OhmyGod!” Steve jumped off the examination table and went to James. Steve’s socks were immediately soaked with the puddle of normal saline that had spilled onto the floor. James was lying in the liquid, eyelids fluttering and groaning softly. </p><p>“James? James!” Steve went to touch him, but stopped, hands hovering. He knew from his first aid training that you weren’t meant to move someone who had fallen, but he wasn’t sure if this counted. He wished Natasha or Clint were there to help him. </p><p>Then he remembered he was in a hospital. He found the call bell and pulled it out of the wall, immediately setting off the high-pitched tones of the emergency alarm. </p><p>James had regained consciousness. He’d managed to get himself up on one forearm with the fingertips of his other hand pressed to the side of his head where Steve’s knee had made contact. The pale skin was already starting to bruise. “The fuck?” he murmured. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry—”</p><p>“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” James shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “You trying to kill me?”</p><p>It felt like he’d been slapped. All Steve had wanted to do was to keep his soulmate from putting himself in danger, but he suddenly realized that the only time his soulmate had been in danger was when he’d been around. He was the common denominator between all the events where his soulmate had been at risk. There really was something wrong with him. Clearly, if he wanted James to be safe, he couldn’t be around him any more. Clearly, he didn’t deserve a soulmate at all.</p><p>The room immediately filled with people, all rushing to help James. No one noticed him slipping away, clothes and boots in hand.</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky woke up in bay 6 of the emergency department. </p><p>“The fuck?” he said, sitting up. His head ached and he lay back down, groaning. </p><p>“This is the fourth time I’ve sat beside one of these beds in the ED while you’ve been on it,” Sam said conversationally. “The fourth. Guess how I’m feeling about that?”</p><p>“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Bucky mumbled. He cracked one eye open. “At least I don’t think I did. What happened?”</p><p>“Looks like your soulmate socked you in the side of the head when you went to take out his stitches,” Sam said. The way he pronounced ‘soulmate’ made it sound synonymous with ‘garbage.’</p><p>“He did?” Bucky frowned, then changed his mind when it made his head hurt. “With what? A hammer?”</p><p>“We were hoping you could tell us,” Sam said. </p><p>“Last thing I remember was bending over his abdomen to clean his stitches before removal, then waking up here.” Bucky glanced around. “Where is he?” </p><p>“He left right after the emergency alarm was pulled.” Sam’s mouth was thin. </p><p>Bucky rolled his head to the left so he could look at Sam. “You don’t think he did this on purpose!”</p><p>“Well, he ain’t here to tell us otherwise,” Sam said. “We should call the cops.” </p><p>“No,” James said immediately. “No. No cops. He didn’t do anything.” </p><p>“And yet, here you are, with a concussion,” Sam said sourly. “That doesn’t look like nothing to me.” </p><p>“He’s my soulmate. He wouldn’t hurt me.” </p><p>“And yet, here you are,” Sam said again. He shook his head. “Look, I know he’s your soulmate, and I know you’ve been waiting forever for someone to say your words. But this is not the fairy-tale romance that you deserve, Bucky. First this guy rejects you, and then he knocks you unconscious! This is not someone to dedicate your life to and you know it.” </p><p>“He didn’t do this on purpose!” Bucky said vehemently, and then lay back, eyes closed as the room did a slow spin. “I’m pretty concussed, aren’t I?”</p><p>“At least a week off work,” Sam sighed. “And that’s assuming Doctor Strange clears you to return.” </p><p>“Doctor Strange?” Bucky grimaced. “I don’t like him.” </p><p>“Too bad that knock on the head didn’t put any sense in there,” Dr. Strange said as he stormed into the bay. He was holding a medical imaging report and he thrust it at Sam. “Here, have a peek inside Barnes’ head. You’ll see that there’s plenty of dead space.”</p><p>“Oh, ha ha,” Bucky said sarcastically. “How badly am I injured?”</p><p>“You head is unsurprisingly thick,” Dr. Strange said. “Which Is lucky, considering Mr. Rogers kneed you in the side of it.” </p><p>“Kneed?” Sam repeated. “What--?”</p><p>“Kneed. As in, drove his knee into the side of Barnes' head,” Strange said. “Am I not speaking English?”</p><p>Sam shot him a look. “I was asking how that happened.” </p><p>“Probably when Barnes was bent over his abdomen to take out his stitches.” Dr. Strange sniffed. “Obviously Barnes didn’t move fast enough when Mr. Rogers reacted to whatever it was that Barnes was doing.” </p><p>“I had started cleaning the area with normal saline,” Bucky said. </p><p>“Must have been too cold,” Dr. Strange said. “Reacting to cold on the abdomen is rather a knee-jerk reaction. Get it? Knee-jerk reaction?” He laughed, amused with his own joke. </p><p>“So, he didn’t hurt Barnes on purpose?” Sam asked.</p><p>“Well, while I understand the impulse to want to hurt Barnes, I doubt it.” Dr. Strange flipped through the other files he was carrying, clearly finished with the conversation. “There are so many easier ways to kill someone than to try to bludgeon them to death in a hospital. Good day gentlemen.” Then he was gone.</p><p>“God, I hate him,” Bucky said, and then shot Sam a triumphant look. “I told you.” </p><p>“Fine. Your awful soulmate didn’t actually try to kill you.” Sam rolled his eyes. “But he did leave, which is not the sign of good boyfriend material.” </p><p>“Not really,” Bucky sighed. “Do you think he had a good reason though? I mean, he didn’t get his stitches out, either.”</p><p>“Probably because he didn’t want to be accused of murder,” Sam muttered. “Alright, yes. There is a possibility that he had a good, albeit badly-thought out, reason for leaving you lying unconscious on the floor. Now will you stop looking at me like that?”</p><p>“I don’t think he’s a bad guy,” Bucky said determinedly.    </p><p>“Okay. Fine. Clearly, we are tracking down your soulmate,” Sam sighed, proving once again he was the best best-friend in the whole universe. “What’s the plan?” </p><p>“Doctor Strange said his last name,” Bucky said, “how many firefighters named Steve Rogers can there be in New York?” </p><p>“I think there’s at least one too many,” Sam said.</p>
<hr/><p>“You’re an idiot.” </p><p>“I got that, thanks,” Steve said through gritted teeth as Clint removed another stitch from his abdomen. He was lying on one of the benches in the men’s locker room at the fire hall, which was probably one-hundred times less sanitary than the hospital had been. Clint was taking out his stiches with a pocket knife and a pair of chopsticks he’d found in one of the drawers in the kitchen. Both items had been ‘sterilized’ by Clint cleaning them with a few alcohol swabs he’d found in the back of his locker. Steve hoped his immune system was strong enough to prevent him from dying from a horrendous infection. </p><p>Clint pulled one of the stitches hard enough to stretch his skin, and he flinched. “Stay still!” Clint commanded him. “You’re worse than Lucky.” </p><p>“You’ve taken stitches out of your dog?”</p><p>“Where do you think I learned how? There.” He gave another tug and once again Steve felt the strange sensation of a thread being pulled through his flesh. “All done. Whoever sewed you up did a pretty shit job.”</p><p>“So I heard.” Steve grimaced as he sat up and pulled his shirt down. Despite being completely healed, his side was still tender as the nerves slowly repaired themselves. Plus, Clint had tugged pretty hard. </p><p>“You’re going to look terrible in a bikini,” Clint mused; then he scowled. “How’d the fuck you manage to knee your soulmate in the head?”</p><p>“I told you the story. You called me an idiot. Remember?”</p><p>“I don’t think I heard right.” Clint chucked the chopsticks and the knife back into his locker and slammed the door. “Because it sounded like you <i>kneed</i> your <i>soulmate</i> in the <i>head.</i>” </p><p>“I did, okay? And I don’t know what to do about it.” </p><p>“An apology might be a good place to start,” Clint said. “And bring him flowers. Guys love that shit.” </p><p>Steve looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “That’s exactly what Natasha said.” </p><p>“The first time you fucked up. Yeah, she told me.” </p><p>“I think I’m always going to fuck this up, Clint,” Steve sighed, forearms on his knees, “it’s my destiny.” </p><p>“Destiny? What?” Clint angled his body to look at him. “What kind of bullshit is that?”</p><p>“Here.” Steve held out his left arm and pulled up his sleeve. </p><p>Clint let out a low whistle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your soulmate’s a <i>dick.</i>”</p><p>Steve chuffed out a laugh. “He was just concerned for me. He shouted it at me right after I’d been stabbed.” </p><p>“So terrible words said from a place of caring,” Clint said consideringly. “I like it.” </p><p>“The words aren’t terrible. They’re true.” He pulled his sleeve down over his knuckles, hiding the words from view.</p><p>“I don’t get it,” Clint said. “True about what?”</p><p>“That I’m wrong!” Steve snapped. “That there’s something wrong with me!”</p><p>“But they don’t say that,” Clint said reasonably. “They’re asking a question, not making a state—”</p><p>“You’re not getting it!” Steve propelled himself off the bench; too agitated to remain seated. “James said that to me because I’m <i>wrong!</i> Every thing about me is fucked up!” </p><p>“I don’t really think—”</p><p>“He nearly <i>died,</i> Clint! <i>Three times!</i> And you know what all those times had in common? Me!”</p><p>“Whoa,” Clint stood up, hands by his shoulders. “you need to slow down there, big guy. Correlation does not imply causation. Sounds like a bunch of coincidences to me.” </p><p>“No, no.” Steve shook his head. “He nearly died in that fire, Clint. If I hadn’t been there—”</p><p>“He would’ve died!” Clint interrupted. “Don’t you remember rescuing him?”</p><p>“That’s my point! The first time we met, I must have said his words. The second time, he said mine. Both times he nearly died!” </p><p>“That is <i>not</i> true!” Clint was shouting now. “The second time you saw him you were the one who nearly died!” </p><p>“But—”</p><p>“<i>No</i>, Steve! That woman stabbed <i>You!</i> Not him. You were the one who nearly died the second time you guys met. Me and Nat picked you up from the hospital!”</p><p>Steve opened his mouth, then shut it again. He collapsed back onto the bench; all his anger leaving at once. “What kind of soulmates does that make us?”</p><p>“It’s pretty fucked up,” Clint agreed, sliding onto the bench beside him. “But then again, who are we to question the plans of the infinite Universe?” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.</p><p>“What kind of Universe would do this?” Steve said brokenly. He didn’t know if he meant the pain of living with his soulmarks, the pain of his soulmate nearly dying, or both.</p><p>“Ours is not to reason why,” Clint quoted. He nudged Steve’s shoulder. “I think the thing to focus on here is that James is alive. You’re alive, and you still have the chance to make it work.” </p><p>Steve looked at Clint despairingly. “I kneed him in the head! He’s not going to want anything to do with me.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Clint said. “I mean, he’s got—”</p><p>“Rogers,” Coulson said, walking into the locker room. “Communications sent this message for you.” He held out a piece of paper.</p><p>“You know,” Clint said, “we have this crazy thing called”—he made air quotes—“email. Saves a lot of paper. You should try it sometime.” </p><p>Coulson shot him a withering look. “Here.”</p><p>Steve took the paper. “Thanks, Captain.” </p><p>“Don’t thank me yet. Communications wants to set up a meet-and-greet with you and him as a media event. Reuniting with his rescuers as it were. The brass is, predictably and unfortunately, completely on board.” </p><p>“What?” Steve looked down to read the message:</p><p>
  <i>To Whom it May Concern.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>My name is James Barnes, and on July 17, my life was saved by Steve Rogers, one of your firefighters. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I had run into a burning building under the false impression that--</i>
</p><p>Steve looked back up. “What is this?”</p><p>“Mr. Barnes is looking for you,” Coulson said. </p><p>Steve scanned the letter again, heart beginning to beat a little faster. “He is?”</p><p>“Apparently you two made an impression on each other,” Coulson said blandly. </p><p>Steve blushed, aware that his Captain was making a veiled reference to how Steve had wanted to put in a complaint against James at the hospital. “When did he send this?”</p><p>Coulson tapped the edge of the paper with the date printed on it. “I do expect my firefighters to be able to read.” </p><p>Clint burst out laughing. </p><p>“Don’t laugh, Barton. You and Romanova were the paramedics on scene. You’ll be expected there too. Ceremony’s here on Thursday at two pm. You’ll be taken out of service to attend. Dress uniform is required. Look presentable.” Coulson turned and left.</p><p>“But that’s tomorrow!” Clint hollered at Coulson’s retreating back. He turned to Steve; eyes wide. “Is he fucking serious?”</p><p>“Afraid so.” </p><p>“Damn,” Clint muttered. “I don’t even know where my dress uniform is.” He jostled Steve’s arm. “Hey, your soulmate contacted you! Maybe you can text him and get him to call this thing off.” Steve showed Clint where James’ contact information had been blacked out by Coulson’s careful hand. “God damn Coulson and his commitment to privacy!” Clint swore. “I guess we have no choice but to go.” </p><p>Steve rubbed his soulmark through his sleeve. He was going to see his soulmate again tomorrow. They would both see whether Clint was right and James’ near-death experiences were a coincidence, or he was right and James might die, yet again. “Yeah,” he muttered. “No choice at all.”</p>
<hr/><p>Bucky hooked his finger under his collar, straining his neck to try to loosen its tightness.</p><p>“Stop it,” Shuri hissed at him from his right side. “You’re ruining the lines.” </p><p>“It’s so hot,” Bucky whispered, “I’m dying.”  </p><p>He, Shuri, Wanda, Kamala and Sam were sitting on uncomfortable rented folding chairs in the bay of Steve’s fire station. They were in the front row while the rows behind were sparsely filled with local media and office staff from the station that had probably been roped into attending. All the trucks had been moved out of the bay to make space for the ceremony to reunite Bucky with his rescuer, Steve. Even though the large bay doors were open, the breeze coming through was anemic at best and did nothing to cool the warm temperature inside. The FDNY had set up a few fans around the parameter but they were all strategically pointed towards the fire services’ upper management, leaving the rest of them to suffer in the heat. The fact that they were already fifteen minutes late in starting wasn’t helping anything, either.</p><p>Bucky was hot, but also really nervous. He’d spotted Steve in his dress blues as soon as he’d entered, looking pulled-together and down right stunning even wearing the ridiculous bell cap that was part of the dress uniform. Steve was standing with a shorter, ruggedly handsome man, and an absolutely gorgeous red-headed women. The badges on their bell caps identified them as paramedics and Bucky assumed that they were the ones to take him to hospital after Steve had pulled him out of the fire. He vaguely recognized them both from the ED, but he didn’t know their names. They both looked as hot and as bored as Bucky felt. </p><p>Bucky was now well into the process of trying to avoid looking at Steve every other second. So far it wasn’t working very well. </p><p>Of course, Steve was also glancing over at <i>him</i> and then looking away, and then glancing over again frequently enough that their eyes clashed before they both looked away as if they’d go blind if they didn’t. </p><p>He touched the side of his head self-consciously, feeling the tender skin underneath his fingertips. Steve hadn’t made any attempt to contact him since his knee had contacted Bucky’s head a week ago. The bruise was slowly fading, but Bucky’s hurt and confusion had only grown since then; especially when his email to the generic in-box with the FDNY had resulted in an invitation to this ceremony, but nothing from Steve himself. The whole thing was puzzling and awkward as hell and if Bucky had realized how bad the situation would be, he never would’ve agreed to any of it. </p><p>“Do you think I can take my jacket off?” Bucky leaned towards Wanda to ask. She’d been wearing a short leather jacket over her short, sleeveless and tight black dress, but she’d slipped off the jacket before she’d sat down and she looked way more comfortable than Bucky was feeling. </p><p>“No,” Shuri scowled at him. </p><p>“I wasn’t asking you,” he scowled back. Shuri was wearing a white dress that also was without sleeves. The dress’ high collar was made of a see-through knit that made Shuri look elegantly cool in all senses of the word.  </p><p>“Here,” Wanda handed him a metal water bottle. “This will make you feel better.” </p><p>Bucky took the bottle with thanks before twisting off the top and putting it to his lips. He was really thirsty; his nerves and the heat drying him out faster than rat poison desiccating a rat, which was a really awful metaphor and he was sorry he thought of it. He drank deeply and had downed half the bottle before the taste hit him. </p><p>“What the <i>fuck?</i>” he spluttered. “that was vodka!”</p><p>Two of the reporters looked over and Bucky smiled weakly at them. </p><p>“Of course it was vodka,” Wanda frowned, “who drinks water at a time like this?”</p><p>“I have water,” Kamala said helpfully. She was also cool and gorgeous in a light blue <i>Shalwar Kameez,</i> and matching <i>Shayla</i> loosely covering her hair. Bucky was sorely wishing he wasn’t in a dark grey suit and had worn something equally light and flowing.</p><p>“It’s too late, I’m dying,” he said morosely. He could already feel the alcohol buzzing through his veins. He just hoped he hadn’t drunk enough to cause him problems later. </p><p>Sam leaned over Shuri to look at Bucky. “Can you die a bit louder so we have a reason to leave early?”</p><p>“Sh!” Shuri rebuked them both. “Be quiet or Bucky won’t get called to the stage to meet his soulmate!” </p><p>“I don’t think that’s the reason we’re here,” Kamala said uncertainly.</p><p>“It is the only reason we are here,” Wanda sniffed. “Otherwise there is not enough reason in the world to be sitting in this heat.” She took a swig of her bottle before passing it across Bucky to Shuri, who took a gulp and handed it back. </p><p>Sam narrowed his eyes at them. “Vodka is a terrible pre-game choice.”</p><p>“Especially in the heat,” Kamala agreed. “For sure one of you is going to puke.” The three women and Sam all looked at Bucky. </p><p>“I am not going to puke!” Bucky said, affronted. “I’ve been holding my liquor like a man since I was eighteen!” He squinted against the buzzing in his forehead.</p><p>“The drinking age is twenty-one.” Sam raised an eyebrow at him. </p><p>“Quebec is a thing,” Bucky frowned at him. “How have you never heard of our French-speaking neighbours to the north?” For some reason, his tongue had trouble forming all the words in a row.</p><p>“Oh damn,” Kamala said, “he’s drunk already.” </p><p>“I am not!” Bucky hissed at her. He glared at the rest of the group for good measure, but no one contradicted him. Which was good because, while he knew he was a bit buzzed, the alcohol hadn’t hit him <i>that</i> hard. Normally drinking made him really happy and flirty, but right now all he felt was anger. Anger and hurt that his soulmate didn’t want him. His soulmate who was standing on the makeshift stage <i>right over there</i> doing everything he could to avoid eye contact. Even though Steve really, <i>really</i> owed him an apology. </p><p>“I should go punch him in his perfect teeth,” Bucky muttered darkly. </p><p>“What?” Wanda leaned towards him. She passed him her bottle. </p><p>Bucky popped off the top and drank a healthy swallow before wiping his mouth with his wrist. He stared at Steve daring the man to look over at him. Steve did, only this time Bucky didn’t look away. He saw a faint flush of pink colour Steve’s cheeks before Steve dropped his gaze.  </p><p>All the heat in Bucky’s body turned to ice cold rage. “Did you see that?” he nudged Wanda’s shoulder.</p><p>“See what?” Wanda peered at the stage. “Are we finally getting started?”</p><p>“No, Steve! He won’t look at me!” </p><p>Kamala leaned over Wanda. “He’s been looking at you. I’ve seen him.”</p><p>“No, he hasn’t,” Bucky said, his anger blazing like a frozen sun. “My fucking <i>soulmate</i> won’t look at me. Like he thinks I’m garbage.” </p><p>Wanda looked at him. “I don’t think he thinks that.” </p><p>“He thinks I’m only good enough to knee in the head!” Bucky was getting worked up now. His soulmate thought that he was <i>better</i> than Bucky. Probably because Bucky was a nurse and not a big, tough firefighter like Steve. Steve was probably a total sexist asshole who didn’t respect men who worked in female-dominated professions. The very idea was like cold gasoline on Bucky’s icy fire.</p><p>“I’m going to go punch him!” he exclaimed to no-one as he stood and started marching towards the stage. Sam got up to follow, but it was right that moment that a man wearing one of those ridiculous bell hats but in white went up to the microphone, seemingly unaware of Bucky’s determined tramp towards him.</p><p>“Hello everyone,” the white-hatted man started. “I’m District Chief Alexander Pierce, and I’d like to welcome you to our Family of Heroes celebration. We like to think of heroes as those who shape the century. However, heroes can be—” Bucky bumped him out of the way as he jumped on the stage and went towards Steve. </p><p>“Steve Rogers!” Bucky bellowed. </p><p>Steve whipped his head around from where he’d been blandly observing some corner of the bay where Bucky was not. “James?” His eyes widened when he saw Bucky’s murderous expression. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly Bucky’s soulmark words, but it was close enough. It took Bucky’s anger from explosive to the type of emotion that incinerated entire planetary bodies. He pointed a finger at Steve. “You, you sonofabitch, are my motherfucking <i>soulmate!</i>”</p><p>Steve put his hands up. “James, this is not a good time.” </p><p>“He’s right. The fact you’re soulmates is nice, but maybe we could finish the speeches?” Pierce said, mouth too near the microphone so everyone heard it. </p><p>“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky yelled at him, also too near the microphone. That got Sam and the doc-lings out of their chairs pretty fast and headed towards the stage. They were impeded by all the reporters who were suddenly very invested in a story that had barely kept them awake mere moments before. </p><p>“I don’t think you want to be doing this here,” the red-headed paramedic said calmly. She was barely five-foot two, but something about her exuded danger. If Bucky had been more sober that might have given him pause. Only he wasn’t sober, so it didn’t. He growled at her and turned back to Steve.</p><p>“You kneed me in the head!” he shouted, earning a collective <i>gasp</i> from the crowd. </p><p>“It was an accident!” Steve whispered loudly. “And one we can talk about later.” </p><p>“You didn’t apologize,” the handsome paramedic said with a disappointed shake of his head. “No wonder he’s pissed.” </p><p>“Yeah, I am pissed!” Bucky said loudly to the paramedic, who’s name badge read ‘Barton.’ “He got stabbed and then he kneed me in the head! What kind of soulmate is that?”</p><p>“A pretty bad one. He should’ve brought you flowers.” </p><p>“Exactly!” Bucky agreed with Romanova, the red-headed paramedic. “He’s a shit soulmate!”</p><p>“You need to sit down,” Pierce said.</p><p>“I do <i>not</i> need to do that,” Bucky snarled at him. </p><p>“You’re making a scene,” Steve said, looking scared and upset. </p><p>“Why do you care?” Bucky said to him. “You don’t care about me. I’m your soulmate!” </p><p>“Hey,” Sam said from beside the stage, “Steve’s right. Why don’t you come back with us?” </p><p>“Please?” Kamala said. “Bucky you don’t look good.” </p><p>“My heart’s broken, that’s why!” Bucky said, not turning away from Steve. There was another collective gasp from the audience, but Bucky was too angry and sad (and maybe drunk) to care.</p><p>“I…I do care,” Steve said quietly. “But we shouldn’t talk about it now. Please, go with your friends.” </p><p>Steve was rejecting him. <i>Again.</i> And this time there was an audience. The hurt and humiliation was too much. “I’m gonna punch you in the face!” Bucky pulled his fist back. </p><p>Someone caught his fist in a grip strong enough that Bucky was forced to turn towards his captor. It was another man wearing one of those ridiculous white bell caps with a fire department badge in the centre. He had blue eyes and a bland expression, like breaking up a near-brawl at a public ceremony was something he did every day. “I’m Captain Coulson,” he said, his voice as bland as his face. “And I’d very much appreciate you not hitting one of my men.” </p><p>Bucky wrenched his hand out of Coulson’s grip, hard enough that the world dipped and then righted itself. He felt a similar roll in his stomach. “He kneed me in the head!” </p><p>“That must have been very painful,” Coulson said sympathetically. “But I still can’t let you hit him.” </p><p>“It’s okay,” Steve said, moving to stand right in front of Bucky. “I probably deserve it.” </p><p>“No doubt,” Coulson said, as if hitting Steve was something a lot of people wanted to do. “But it’s still not going to happen here. Now, sir, perhaps I can invite you to sit down?”</p><p>“That’s a great idea,” Sam said from where he was still standing in front of the stage with Kamala and Shuri who were both looking wide-eyed with worry. Wanda could barely contain her mirth. “Why don’t you come back with us, Buck?”</p><p>Bucky looked from Sam back to Steve to Sam again. The movement made him immediately feel like his stomach was riding a roller-coaster without the rest of his body along for the ride. He swallowed. He turned to Steve; <i>you’re an asshole,</i> on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth. </p><p>And barfed all over Steve’s uniform.</p>
<hr/><p>“Am I dead? I feel dead,” Bucky moaned, ice pack pressed to his forehead. </p><p>He was lying on a couch somewhere inside the Fire Station where the ceremony was meant to have taken place. It was cool inside and someone had removed his jacket and tie and loosened his belt, which was a godsend in the terrible heat. </p><p>“You’re fine,” Natasha, the red-headed paramedic said. He felt her finish fixing the IV into the back of his hand with some medical tape. He’d seen her hook the bag of normal saline to a coat rack that someone had dragged over before she’d started the IV. He’d closed his eyes after that point. The cool fluid now running into his hand felt strangely soothing. “You just had too much heat, is all.” </p><p>“Oh,” Bucky said. He cracked one eye open. Sam and the three doctors were hanging around, sitting or leaning on various pieces of furniture. Of course, Steve wasn’t there. It made his heart hurt worse than his head to see that his soulmate had abandoned him yet again. He closed his eyes. </p><p>“I’m done,” Natasha said. “And since all of you are higher medical authorities, I feel pretty good leaving him in your tender loving care. If you need anything just open the door and holler, okay?” Bucky heard her quiet footsteps as she left.</p><p>“So,” Sam drawled. “That was interesting.” He dragged his chair closer; a deafening screech of metal. </p><p>Bucky’s eyes flew open and he let out an inarticulate sound of pain. “Sam!”</p><p>“You are too funny when you are hungover.” Wanda wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. </p><p>Bucky sat up slowly, wincing with the pain in his head and his unsettled stomach. He certainly felt hungover, but he clearly hadn’t been black-out drunk. His actions on the stage were crystal-clear in his mind. He swallowed, thinking of Maria Hill, the nurse manager of the ED at Maria Stark Memorial, and how completely unfunny she would find the whole thing. Especially as she'd given him the day off to attend. “I’m going to get fired, aren’t I?”</p><p>There was a chorus of “no!” and “of course not!” from his friends. “Why would you think that?” Wanda asked. </p><p>“Because you said I’m hungover. Which means I was drunk. In public. Ohmygod, I threw up on my <i>soulmate!</i>” Bucky put his head in his hands.</p><p>“I think telling the District Chief to fuck off might’ve been worse,” Kamala said, then; “what?” when everyone turned on her for saying that.</p><p>“I am so fired,” Bucky groaned. “Sam, can I stay with you when I lose my place?”</p><p>“You will not get fired,” Wanda said with total confidence. “They do not know that you were drinking.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Kamala readily agreed. “We told them you ate some bad fish, and that combined with the heat, made you sick and messed with your head. They have no idea you had vodka.” </p><p>Bucky looked quizzically at them. “Even I can tell I smell like a brewery.” </p><p>“We’re medical doctors.” Shuri shrugged. “No one is going to contradict what we say.” </p><p>“Trust me, they bought it,” Sam said. “Well, I think Natasha might be skeptical, but I don’t think she’ll say anything.” </p><p>“Why wouldn’t she?” Bucky said mournfully. “She doesn’t owe me anything.” </p><p>“Because she’s my best friend,” Steve said from the doorway. “And she wouldn’t want to cause my soulmate harm.” </p><p>“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Sam said, standing. “Text me when you’re ready to head home.” He started heading towards the door, Kamala and Shuri in tow. </p><p>“I’m staying for this,” Wanda said, arms crossed. </p><p>“You are not!” Kamala came and grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the room. “Good luck, Bucky!” she called over her shoulder. </p><p>And then Bucky and Steve were alone.</p>
<hr/><p>Steve shut the door behind James’ friends and took Sam’s abandoned chair. He felt awkward and ungainly, like he was taking up too much space. He’d changed out of his dress blues and taken a shower as soon as Bucky had been carted inside by Clint and Natasha, but even though he was wearing his station gear he still felt strangely naked. Like James would only have to look over and see right into his very soul.</p><p><i>Well, we are soulmates,</i> he reminded himself, then winced. He’d been fucking it up since the moment he and James had met.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, before he either lost his nerve or fucked things up even further. “I’m sorry I’ve…I’ve hurt you. I get why you’d want to punch me in the face.” </p><p>“I said that? Oh god, I did. I did say that.” James winced. “I should never have done that. Jesus.”  </p><p>“It’s okay,” Steve put out his hand to touch James’ arm, but then stopped. He had no idea if James would want his touch or not. “You were angry, I get it.” </p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” James said. “Being angry doesn’t give me any right to threaten you with violence. God, what you must think of me!” He put his head in his hands. </p><p>“Hey, it’s okay.” This time Steve did touch, a light brush of fingertips on James’ biceps. It was enough for Steve to feel the strong muscle there, and the idea did interesting things to Steve’s insides. He was so attracted to this man. </p><p>James looked up at his touch. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never been like that before?”</p><p>“Yes,” Steve said with certainty. </p><p>James blinked those beautiful grey eyes of his. “You would?”</p><p>Steve smiled. “The first time I met you, you’d run into a burning building to save someone you’d never met. I think that tells me everything I need to know about my soulmate.” </p><p>James flashed a smile at him, before it faded. “Why haven’t you tried to get in contact with me?” </p><p>“I did, but I got stabbed,” Steve reminded him. “it kind of interrupted my plans.” </p><p>“But what about when you were healing from being stabbed? Or after you kneed me in the head? Or even after I reached out to the FDNY to find you? Why didn’t you try to find me then?”</p><p>“Because…because every time I’m near you, you almost die!” Steve blurted. It was exactly what he’d said to Clint the day before. “There was no way I wanted to watch that happen again.” </p><p>“What?” James’ eyes were round with confusion. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“The fire, the woman with the knife. <i>I kneed you in the head!</i> All the times you were in danger it was because of me!” </p><p>James’ confused expression didn’t change. “That’s not true.” </p><p>“It is true! I’m dangerous to you and you know it! I don’t know what the Universe was thinking, but we can’t be together!” </p><p>“No!” James said. “no, you can’t mean that!” </p><p>“You get hurt when I’m around,” Steve said, trying to explain. “Three times since we’ve met. Maybe four if we count your heat stroke. I’m bad for you James. You’ve got to see that.” </p><p>“Wait,” James said. “You think the burning building; being threatened with a knife; my <i>heat stroke</i> is your fault? Are you serious?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Steve said. He rubbed the soulmarks under his sleeve. “What other reason could there—”</p><p>“Because I’m a reckless asshole!” James shouted. He stood. “I’ve been a reckless asshole my whole life. Running into that building wasn’t the first time I’ve done something stupid, and it sure as fuck won’t be my last. And you know why I’m like that? Because of these!” He shoved his pants down on the right side of his leg, exposing his hip. There, in strong black lettering were his soulmarks: <i>What the fuck did you think you were doing?</i> in Steve’s handwriting.</p><p>“Those are my words,” Steve said. </p><p>“And they’ve shaped my whole life! But good or bad, that’s on <i>me</i>. Not you.”    </p><p>“But I’m a fuck up.” Steve stood from the chair and pulled up the sleeve of his long-sleeve t-shirt; showing James his soulmarks. “I’ve been <i>wrong</i> since the day I was born because of these words.” </p><p>James face crumpled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know until you got stabbed what my first words were to you. I’m so, so sorry.” </p><p>“I’ve hated them my whole life!” Steve spat. “I could never understand why the Universe would pair me with someone who thought so little of me.” </p><p>“I thought you were going to die,” James said. “I saw Jean stab you, and there was all this blood…and all I could think about was if you’d just stayed put, you wouldn’t’ve been in danger. I just didn’t want you to die.” </p><p>Steve absorbed James’ explanation. “That’s how I felt,” he said slowly. “when I pulled you out of the house. I was terrified that I might’ve been to late, and you could’ve died in that fire. That’s why I said what I said, too. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t apologize.” James smiled. “I kind of like them.” </p><p>“But there terrible!”</p><p>“They’re from my soulmate,” James said simply. “And you only said them because you were worried. For me. Like you said.” </p><p>“We left such awful soulmarks on each other for exactly the same reasons,” Steve said wonderingly. </p><p>“Like the Universe knew we cared about each other before we did,” James agreed. “And I wouldn’t be who I am without them. I was reckless because it meant someone would eventually say my words, but it also meant a lot of stiches and broken bones. Without all those trips to the hospital I probably wouldn’t have become a nurse.” </p><p>“You’re brave,” Steve said. “you’re not reckless. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.” </p><p>James lit up; eyes sparking. “You really think so?”</p><p>“I know so,” Steve said. “I’ve been in the military and I’m a firefighter. I know what brave looks like.” </p><p>“And I know what wrong looks like and you’re not it.” James took his hands. “You pulled me out of a fire and tried to stop me getting stabbed and if that’s not brave, then I don’t know what is. But I do know there is <i>nothing</i> wrong with you. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you at all.” </p><p>Steve felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. It was amazing how healing it was to hear those words from his soulmate. His soulmate, who had given him his soulmarks out of caring; who thought there was nothing wrong with him. Steve pulled the chair close to the couch; close enough that he could touch James’ face. “Can I kiss you?” He breathed. He’d never wanted anything more.</p><p>James leaned towards him before stopping. “I threw up less than an hour ago and I haven’t brushed my teeth.” </p><p>Steve leaned in further. “I still want to kiss you.” </p><p>“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” James murmured. Then kissed him.</p>
<hr/><p>“I’m glad to see your friends are having a good time.” Natasha slid onto the bench beside Bucky and passed him a beer. </p><p>It was Bucky and Steve’s six-month anniversary, although the date was a little contentious. Steve liked to count it from the date he’d pulled Bucky from the fire, while Bucky considered it the day of the aborted ceremony when he’d thrown up all over him. Sam had suggested splitting the difference and going with the date when Steve had given Bucky a concussion. Bucky was pretty sure Sam had been joking, but Steve had jumped at the chance to turn a bad memory into something good. Bucky had been happy to agree.  </p><p>“Thanks,” Bucky grinned at her. “And yes, they are. I think it’s the first time they’ve been bowling.” </p><p>“If that’s what you’d call it,” Natasha said wryly. She wasn’t wrong. Sam and Kamala were playing against each other, and Sam was losing horribly. Shuri was allowing the paramedic probie, a kid named Peter, to ‘teach’ her how to bowl, even though it was painfully obvious that she was much better than he was. Wanda had skipped most of her turns in favour of flirting with a tall, blond firefighter with the improbable name of ‘Vision’,</p><p>“Ten bucks says that Vision is Wanda’s soulmate.” </p><p>“No bet,” Bucky grinned. “She already told me.” </p><p>“Looks like their first meeting was way easier for them than it was for you.” She took a sip of her beer. “Glad to see that not everyone’s first meeting has to be so dangerous.” </p><p>“Oh, ha ha,” Bucky pretended to scowl at her. He secretly loved how Natasha gave him a hard time about everything. She was like the little sister he’d never had. “And how’s your love life, Mrs. Barton?”</p><p>Natasha smacked his shoulder. “I will never give up my Russian heritage even if we do get married.” </p><p>“So, it’s a possibility?” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Does Clint know this?”</p><p>Natasha actually blushed. “We may now be Facebook official.” </p><p>“That’s amazing!” Bucky was genuinely happy for her. “You two are so good together!” </p><p>“It’s taken me a while to figure it out, but yeah, I think you’re right.” She looked so joyous that Bucky had to give her a hug. </p><p>“Hands off my man,” Steve said as he and Clint slid back into the booth. Steve leaned over and gave Bucky a quick peck on the cheek; always reluctant about the PDAs. Well, Bucky had a plan to fix that.</p><p>“Get in line,” Natasha said, but she let Bucky go in order to move close enough so that Clint could wrap her in his arms. She shot him a meaningful look. </p><p>She was right, it was time. Bucky stood and cleared his throat. No one paid him any mind except for the three other people sitting at his table. That would not do. Bucky stepped onto the bench and then right onto the table, careful not to spill any of the drinks that Clint and Steve had just brought. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” he hollered. </p><p>To his gratification, everyone turned to look, including people not in his group of friends. Even the DJ turned the music down and shone a spotlight in Bucky’s direction, which was exactly what Bucky had paid extra for. </p><p>“Thank you!” Bucky called and jumped down from the table. He turned towards Steve. “Steve,” he said.</p><p>“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve whispered harshly; almost quoting Bucky’s soulmarks. It made Bucky’s heart swell with happiness. God, he loved this man.</p><p>“Steve,” he said again. “When I first met you, you pulled me out of a burning building. I didn’t know it then, but not only did you save my life that day, but you also captured my heart. I have been blessed to live nearly every day since then knowing that you were my soulmate and the love of my life.” Here, Bucky pulled a small box out of his pocket and knelt on the floor, hand extended towards Steve. “You are the best man I have ever met, and the only person I will ever love. Steven Grant Rogers, will you marry me?</p><p>Steve’s hands were pressed over his mouth, his blue eyes wide with alarm. He looked like he was frozen in fear, and Bucky’s heart began to sink. </p><p>Clint bumped shoulders with Steve, hard enough to make Steve jerk. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Clint said loudly, “say yes!” </p><p>Steve’s hands fell away from his mouth as his face spit into a wide smile. His eyes lit with pure joy and intense love. “Yes,” he said. “yes, James Buchanan Barnes, I will marry you!” They both got to their feet and embraced, mouths meeting in a passionate kiss as everyone around them cheered. </p><p>“About fucking time,” Bucky heard Wanda say. She turned to Vision. “When you propose, I would prefer Paris.” </p><p>“We could go to Paris, for our honeymoon,” Steve said. </p><p>“Nothing wrong with that,” Bucky said, and then kissed him again. Because he could.</p><p> </p><p>END</p>
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